Children of Gallifrey
by inthelookingglass
Summary: The Gallifreyans have one last hope to restore their place in the universe- The Children of Gallifrey. The Doctor and company have to battle against the odds to stop them. Superwholock.
1. Nightmare

About four or five years ago, the odd nightmare about a stranger wouldn't have made Sam apprehensive like this. In fact, they were almost normal for him. So normal, in fact, that the odd vision-like dreams hit him like a ton of bricks during the day too. Heck, sometimes they'd come with a built in migraine too, which of course did wonders for his state of happiness. Considering that the demon who'd made him like that was dead, and he hadn't had that kind of dream for god knows how long, it was safe to say that by the third night of seeing the same thing happen all over again, something wasn't right.

Having refused sleep for three days, telling Dean that he needed to focus on finding the evil ghost lady, or whatever it was they were hunting this time, he couldn't hold it off any longer. Sleep over took him, forcing his eyelids shut with it's warm welcoming hands.

_The man's coat swirled as he jumped off the tiny roof wall, his laugh filling the air, curdling the other man's blood with desperation. The clicking of his shoes, battering against the cement floor of the hospital's roof edged closer towards the shorter man. _

_"What?" there was a glint in the shorter man's eye and in the way he smiled, that proved he possessed no morals of a good man. "What did I miss?"_

_"You're not going to do it?" the intelligence glimmered in the man's tone, as he stood over the other with superiority. "So the killers can be called off then?"_

The scene swirled inside of Sam's head as he tossed and turned in the uncomfortable motel bed. He desperately tried to fight against the barriers of tiredness, but crashed back down in defeat as they repelled him backwards, straight back into the nightmare.

_"No...you're not." the shorter man's eyes squinted, his head swayng side to side, with movements like a snake as he smiled, his lips spreading wide across his face, but his eyebrows remained still and unmoving. "I see... You're not ordinary... You're me... You're me! Thank you...Sherlock Holmes."_

_The taller man- Sherlock- accepted the hand that Moriarty had held out for him to shake without a glimmer of apprehension. His eyes were cold without feeling, peircing into the dark slits half way down the other man's face._

_"Thank you..." the smaller man said, in an almost inaudible whisper, that screamed like the loudest of screams in Sherlock's ears. "Bless you. As long as I'm alive, you can save your friends. You've got a way out. Well good luck with that!"_

_His mouth gaped wide, and had Sherlock not been the rational man he'd grown to become, he'd have thought that the man- _whose name was Moriarty, Sam had realised after the second time he'd seen the dream-_ was about to morph into some kind of monster- not that he wasn't one already. The silver gun glinted in the sun, and with the realisation about what was about to happen Sherlock pulled away in honest terror, as Moriarty angled the gun at his own throat, spilling his thick red tainted blood on the ground. _

Sam sensed that he was sweating, but no matter how many times he tried to break free, he'd discovered that it was impossible.

_Sherlock was hyperventilating now, purging himself with oxygen, knowing that in just moments to come, he'd need all the oxygen he could get._

_His coat circled in the wind as he held the phone to his ear, glaring down at his good friend, who was stood apprehensively in front of the building, albeit where he was about to land was out of his viewpoint. _

_"Goodbye John..." his voice rang through his friend's phone, as the realisation hit him, forcing a single tear down his cheek._

_"No..." John stumbled over the word, as the two words of his friend buzzed through his ears repeatedly._

_The phone hurtled behind him, onto the roof._

_"N-... SHERLOCK!" John's voice was no less than a scream, but to himself, it sounded more like the faintest of whispers. _

_Sherlock spread his arms out wide, almost as if he was immitating an angel, but no. He may have been on the side of the angels, but he was most defintely not one of them. He jumped almost instantly, flying towards the ground effortlessly. Just before he hit the floor, Sam could swear that part of the fall hadn't occured, as if the strange man had jumped off the roof, and instantly crashed against the pavement, his blood dripping down the kerb._

Sam jolted awake, shivering and shaking, although his warm body was glazed with sweat. He winced as the all too familar pain filled his head. The same pain he'd felt when the visions forced him onto the ground. The same pain he'd felt when he was stood, trying to exorcise a demon with blood dripping down his nose. It was then he noticed that his nose was actually bleeding, and thrust himself off the bed and into the kitchen to get a towel to hold against it, to make sure they didn't have to pay for staining the bed sheets.

"Sammy?" Dean sat up, looking over at his brother. "Hey, you okay?"

"M'fine..." he mumbled, the image of the falling man still etched into his conscious thoughts. "Slammed the door in my face when I got up to use the bathroom. I was tired."

"Pinch your nose with the cloth, then lean your head back."

"No, the blood goes down the back of your throat if you do that."

"Lean your head forward then. Oh and don't try lying to me. You woke me up about twenty minutes ago, screaming like a banshee. I tried to wake you up, but... I've been pretending to sleep since. What happened?"

"Nightmare."

"Pretty bad one, by the looks of it."

"Dean..." Sam pleaded, looking up at his brother. "M'head hurts."

"So it's that kind of nightmare. But Sam, how's that even possible? Azazel is dead! Gone!"

"I don't know. It feels... different. It's the third time I've had the same dream."

"What's the dream, Sammy?"

"Two suicides. One man was evil, psyching the other guy out before blowing his brains out. The other was intelligent and flung himself off the roof."

"Look it could be nothing. Probably from watching that crime show that was on the other week there."

"But it could be something, Dean. We can't just ignore it."

"We'll just keep an eye on the news, Sammy."

"Dean, something's not right. I know it's a vision. I refuse to ignore this!"

"Fine, we'll investigate. Any leads on where we're heading?"

"The man jumped off a hospital roof."

"Did you manage to catch the name of the hospital?"

"St Bartholomew's."

"Isn't that in London?"

"That's what I thought."

"We're not going to England, Sammy."

"I didn't say that. I'll do some research, okay?"


	2. Fire

Sam held his aching head in his cool hands as he waited for the slow motel computer to connect to the internet. He couldn't ignore the fact that his brain felt like it had been replaced with a collosal wad of cotton wool, leaving him without the capacity to think properly. The image of the falling man, his coat circling as he fell to the ground, had etched itself into his mind. He stretched his fingers, before plodding them onto the keyboard and typing Sherlock Holmes into the search engine. Like usual, he expected to be occupied for the next hour or two, sifting through irrelevant pages to get to what he needed to find, but his job was made easier when he realised that the first four links that appeared- a wikipedia page, a news article, a website called 'Science Of Deduction' and John Watson's blog- were exactly what he was looking for. He decided the news article- which mentioned Moriarty in the title- would be the most reliable source. From the pictures attached to the article, he realised that the two men he'd dreamt about were completely and utterly real.

"Dean!" He shouted as he scrolled through the article.

"What?" Dean answered through a mouthful of his breakfast. "Did you find something?"

"I looked up one of the names. Sherlock Holmes. He's a detective. A consulting detective. He was the one who jumped off the building. I found out a bit about the other man, Jim Moriarty, too. This weekend, he's being trialled for a whole host of crimes. Breaking into the case containing the crown jewels, unlocking all the cells at Pentonville Prison and opening the vault at The Bank Of England. Sherlock has been called to testify."

"It's nothing supernatural, Sam. It's not our kind of job."

"Then why did I see them die, Dean? Four times. _Four!_" his voice faltered with apprehension.

"Look, we can't just hop on a plane to England. We've not got the money, and it's not like we've got a machine which can take us anywhere in time and space. We're not Bill and Ted."

Sam sighed, feeling the spear of disappointment pierce into his chest, twisting and turning in his heart. If only they had that machine...

...

The bundle of man, wrapped in his tweed jacket, swirled with seemingly no effort, although he was really stumbling elegantly around the control panel. The red head laughed at him, leaning against her husband.

"Where are we going, Doctor?" Amy smiled. "Apalapucia? This time where Chen7 _isn't _a planet-wide epidemic?"

"Can't risk it Amy," he grinned, reading the scanner. "Wherever the TARDIS has brought us."

"And that's Denver, Colorado?" Rory opened the creaky blue doors. "Specifically, a run down motel."

"Don't sound so glum Rory. I bet the motel is lovely. The TARDIS won't leave, for some reason. We'll have to check in."

"Can't we just sleep in the TARDIS?" Amy queried, harbouring the same concerns as her husband.

"Not safe. We could wake up in the middle of the jungle apocoly-... oops I wasn't supposed to mention that."

...

"Hey Sam, why the hell is there a blue phone box from the sixties outside?" Dean peaked through the motel window, noticing the foriegn object a few feet away from the Impala.

Sam shrugged, "Maybe it's that time machine." He sighed monosyllabically, in desperate need of a proper sleep, that didn't involve watching people die. "There's people over there. They look as if they've just got out of the phone box."

"Are they coming into the motel?"

"One of them is, yeah."

"We should go downstairs."

"Why?"

"Considering the only reason we agreed to stay in this dump- which is saying something, because most of the places we stay in are only a little bit better than this- is because we're meant to be hunting the apparent wraith who owns this place."

...

"Could I possibly book a room?" Rory queried, hitting the bell on the motel desk for effect. "A double and a single?"

Before he could pull back, the mass behind the desk lunged forward. The lump of savagery writhed towards him, sending him into defense mode. He reached for the tall lamp behind him, and held it in front of his face.

"I'm not afraid to use thi-..." he looked at his 'weapon'. "It's just a lamp, isn't it?"

The creature forced itself forward, sheathing a long spike from it's wrist. Still clenching the lamp in his hands, Rory lurched to attack the wraith, but was pulled back by a gravitational force. Thinking he'd been pulled into some portal, he mentally thanked The Doctor for saving him, before realising that he was still in the motel, seconds away from being killed by a monster that would slice open his skull, and suck his brain dry. His back was soaked with dark red blood, oozing from a wound at the side of his head, where the wraith's spike had sliced part of the skin.

Dean clenced the silver knife in his finger, stalking behind the wraith. The wraith was unaware of the attack, until the burning pain shot through it's heart. Dean let go of the knife, letting the lump fall to the ground.

"Can you stand?" Dean asked Rory, who was sprawled against the wall.

"I'm standing aren't I?" He smirked half heartedly.

"No. You're leaning."

"Same thing."

"Get outside." Sam called, running towards the door. "Our stuff's in the car Dean, we need to go. Now."

The red-headed girl raced towards her blood-stained husband, desperate to get a look at the deep wound on his neck.

"What the hell happened?" Her Scottish accent added to her anger.

"What was that thing?" Rory directed his question at Sam and Dean, who set out to explain.

"It was a wraith."

"A wraith. Okay..." he stated calmly. "Mental note to self; worse than weeping angels. Way worse."

"You should head down to the hospital and get that wound sorted out." Sam mentioned. "What's with the police box anyway?"

"_TARDIS." _The Doctor corrected them as he exited the blue box. "Time and Relative Dimension In Space."

"Doctor, can we just leave and get this wound checked out?"

"Something's interfering with the TARDIS. She's set to crash, not long after we take off. It's not safe, especially considering the volume of blood you seem to be losing, by the second."

"We could take you?" Sam suggested, heading towards the Impala.

"I'll meet you there. I'm going to try and get the TARDIS in control, or let it crash so she can repair herself."

_"She?" _Dean questioned The Doctor's companions, who shrugged indifferently.

...

_Fire. Thick red-orange fire. Flickering in the wind, growing effortlessly in it's savage glory. Just like the fire that had taken his mom; had taken Jess, except instead of a controlled sort of chaos, the mass of rapid oxidation had no boundaries. It diffused through the air, leaving sweat buds on the tear-stained faces. The Doctor lay there, still and unmoving, still drowned by his tweed jacket and tight trousers, as the fire flew over his already dead body, circling around him in an unusually elegant swirl. Amy stood a few feet away, desperately burying her head into her equally inconsolable husband's shoulder, shaking with almost every negative emotion._

_Dean was standing further behind them, his hands clenched protectively over his churning stomach. He blinked his red eyelids together rapidly, fighting back the tears of guilt that were threating to bubble over. He was blaming himself for this. _

_Amy grabbed onto Sam's arm in a desperate sadness._

_"Sam!" she sobbed, shaking him with an indirect anger._

_Another voice rung through his ears. Burning them, as if the voice had come from the fire._

_"Tell The Doctor he's going to burn, Sammy. Tell him for me."_

_..._

"Sam! Sam!" he could hear them shouting, but still he remained half asleep.

"Sam..." Dean sighed gently as his brother woke up. "Another nightmare?"

"Mmm..." Sam mumbled incoherently, only just acknowledging the tissue that sat underneath his nose.

"Another nosebleed too. Your shirt's soaked."

"D'n- St'p the c'r..." he managed to force out, rushing his words so they lacked vowels, as he scrambled for the door handle.

"The car's stopped Sammy..." Dean rushed over to his brother's side of the car, helping him with the door.

He stumbled out of his seat, lurching over the thick patch of grass at the side of the road. His insides felt like they were burning, as if someone was running a flaming torch over the lining of his stomach. He mumbled incoherently for his brother, who stood awkwardly rubbing his brother's back as Rory and Amy stood watching. He saw them out of the corner of his eye, and was reminded of the dream all too quickly, sending him into a full on blare of retching.

"What did you see Sam?" Dean questioned, still with a nurturing tone in his gruff voice. "The same again?"

"_Fire..._" he dry-retched.

"Like-"

"Worse. It was more like... a salt and burn, but worse, Dean. _So much worse..."_

"Who, Sammy?"

"I can't remember..." he lied, wiping his mouth and straightening up. "Can we just go now? I'm fine, honestly Dean. If I'm going to hurl, I'll warn you."


	3. Alien

"Sherlock?" John's voice ran through the flat as he stared at his computer, calling for his flat mate.

"What is it?" Sherlock replied, peeking his head around the door. "Has Mrs Hudson run off?"

"Now I understand why you wouldn't want to take on a case at the moment what with Scotland Yard thinking you're responsible for the kidnapping of those two kids, but..." he sighed, calling Sherlock to look at the articles on his laptop. "I've been doing some research. It's not just the ambassador's children who've been going missing. There's been reported kidnappings all over the place, all during the same time period. Children have been vanishing from play-parks, schools, even their own homes. I don't see how Scotland Yard haven't noticed the _obvious _links between almost all of these disappearances."

"Children don't just vanish. People take them all the time. Heck, sometimes they even run of themselves. Don't fret about it, John. Stop trying to clear my name."

"It just doesn't seem right. Kids being taken from extremely public places, yet no witnesses?"

"No witnesses? At all?"

"At least ninety percent of those articles mention that there were no witnesses, yes."

...

"Rory, let us come with you when you go to get that stitched up." Dean warned him as he set his focus on parking the Impala. "Can't trust that you won't blab about that wraith."

"Honestly, I'm not that stupid. I already knew 'monsters' were real."

"You're hunters?" Sam questioned, still sounding slightly hoarse with fearful nausea.

"_Travellers _would be the correct term." Amy smiled with a hint of snark. "We're The Doctor's companions."

"So you're his little bitches?" Dean smiled, making a joke.

...

"That's a pretty deep wound you've got there." The doctor that was stitching up the cut stated. "And how did you manage to bruise up your back like this?"

"Um... when they guy attacked me, I grabbed a lamp to...you know... defend myself, and... forgot to take the plug out of the socket, and... got pulled back." Rory sighed, feeling slightly embarrassed by his mistake.

"Let me go and get someone to contact the police, and once they've questioned you, you can go." she left, leaving the ER corridor.

"Run..." Dean laughed quietly, practically grabbing Rory and dragging the rest of them out of the hospital. "Police isn't good."

"Into the TARDIS..." Amy suggested, only just realising that it would be a quick escape.

"Great. We're escaping the police by running into a _police _box... That's not weird at all-..."

The shock hit him, making his facial muscles spasm into an expression of awe. His eyes scoped the place, taking in every last inch of the collosal TARDIS interior. He looked over at his brother, who was stood over by the door, shocked into a state of fearful amazement. Even for two men who'd seen what some deemed as impossible- angels, demons, the living dead- the inside of the police box was most definitely a piece of unexplainable fantasy. Dean was so tempted to reach into his jacket pocket and pull out his gun, to threaten the tricksters or whatever it was standing in front of him, but there was something about the three people standing in front of him that screamed out 'human' to him.

The only thing that prevented him for investing his belief in this theory was the blatant fact that this 'Turdis' or whatever the three of them had called it, was most definitely other worldly, and completely _not _human.

"What are you?" he glared at The Doctor, his green eyes piercing into the other man's, searching for signs that showed he wasn't human. "A trickster? Heck, I'm willing to go as far as angel, seeing as anything is possible."

"I'm a Time Lord..." The Doctor stated calmly. "From Gallifrey."

"Where the heck is that? Canada?"

"It's..." he swallowed, regaining his confidence. "It _was_ located in the constellation of Kasterborous, but now... It's in the time lock. Nothing but psychic energies..."

"So you're an alien?"

"That's the derogitory term, but theoretically, yes... I'm an alien."

"Alright martian, what happened to 'my Turdis is crashing!'? Doesn't seem to be crashing to me."

"Firstly, I'm not from Mars. Secondly it's a TARDIS, which is basically a time machine in your terms," The Doctor sighed, keeping his cool. "Whatever was interfering with her seems to have gone. We won't crash if we take off."

"Shouldn't we leave?" Dean directed the question at Sam. "Let the _travellers _be on their way?"

"You're welcome to stay on board, even just for one trip!" he flailed his arms around.

"But the car-..."

"This is a time machine. We can drop you off whenever, and your car will be fine. So where is it you'd like to go? _Mars? _We'll meet some real martians..."

"Dean... London..." Sam nudged him.

"Ah, London is it? What year?"

"Present day? We've erm... got leads on a case."

...

He wasn't sure if was the new coffee blend that Scotland Yard had been buying due to budget cuts, or if it was the collosal case he was in charge of, but Greg Lestrade was sure of something. He'd felt odd for the past week, unable to look at Sherlock Holmes without the thick ball of doubt sticking in his throat, thinking about what Sally Donovan had said. What if Sherlock really had taken the ambassador's children? What if he had decieved them all into believing that he was this clever, amazing thing, but really, he'd made the whole thing up for attention?

It didn't help that he hadn't had a good night's sleep in days. In the odd chance he managed to get some shut eye, he'd be all too reminded of the case at hand. He'd see Moriarty, taunting Sherlock, and not once uprooting the doubt that rose in Lestrade's chest. The swirling coat, drifting gracefully in the wind as Sherlock stepped onto the side of the building, and the swirling man, floating down towards the ground.


	4. Arrested

The Doctor barely had to control the TARDIS to get her on track to London- it was as if she knew they were needed there, and just happened to pick up Sam and Dean on the way. Even if the Winchesters had chosen somewhere else to explore, the blue box would have probably rebelled and went her own way, plonking herself down in England.

"Why London?" Amy's eyebrow was raised, as she looked at Dean critically. "You could have chose anywhere, but... London?"

"Like I said, we've got something that may need doing there, and we couldn't just hop on a plane in case it was nothing," he grunted in response.

"What is it that you might need to do?" Rory nudged over towards his wife, wrapping his arm around her, as if the new men in the TARDIS posed as a threat.

"Look, you guys seem quirky enough to believe us..." Dean laughed half-heartedly. "Sam's been having these dreams-"

Rory's head shot up at the word, but realising that they'd seen him flinch, he pretended that his neck was stiff from his recent injury.

"And... A couple of years ago, I'd have the same kinds of dreams. Premonitions. What I dreamt about, tended to happen."

"And this brings you to London, because?" Rory swallowed, feeling a little uncomfortable.

"I've seen the same thing happen three or four times. This man- Sherlock Holmes- falling off a hospital roof," Sam took over from his brother. "Something about it seems fishy."

"That'd be the chip shop I parked beside," The Doctor opened the TARDIS doors, revealing the street in front of them, wafting the smell away from his nose with his hand.

Sam winced, feeling the muscles on his forehead contract in discomfort. He rubbed his eyes, hoping that the sudden headache didn't equal an oncoming waking vision. Dean shot a glimpse in his direction, recieving a forced, but believable enough smile back. The younger brother couldn't ignore the fuzziness filling his brain at that moment, making him have to think much harder just to put one foot in front of the other. They walked- and in Sam's case, staggered- along the streets of London, coming to a halt as they entered Baker Street, and noticed the commotion surrounding the flat, 221B.

Dean ran ahead, Rory following not far behind, racing towards the cluster of police cars that huddled together outside of the flat. The Doctor caught up with them, craning his neck to get a glimpse of what was going on. Amy, having noticed the lethargy in Sam's walk, had kept back to make sure the tall man was alright. He mumbled something about his head, grasping onto his hair as if he was hanging on for his dear life. He'd forgotten how painful waking visions were. He hadn't prepared himself for the searing agony, burning into his skull as if someone was holding a flame to his scalp.

_The image of the door, tall and painted black, with the four letters- 221B- attached to door, their gold colour shimmering in the dull sunlight. Inside of the house, Sherlock and John, as well as their housekeeper stood having a discussion in the centre of the room. A hand tapped against the door, forcing the poor old housekeeper, even though she was in her 'nightie', to go and answer it._

_"I'll go..." she tottered down the stairs. _

_"We need to talk to Sherlock..." a whining female voice seeped through from downstairs. _

_"Excuse me, Mrs Hudson..." a man's voice could also could be heard._

_"We need to talk to you!" the woman's voice screeched again. _

_"Don't barge in like that!" Mrs Hudson gasped._

_The foot steps raced upstairs, as Sherlock reached for his blue scarf, wrapping it around his neck._

_"Have you got a warrant? Have you?" John's voice broke, sticking up for the man he'd grown to know so well._

_"Leave it John..." the other man's voice was calm and unusually considerate. "Sherlock Holmes, I'm arresting you on suspicion of abduction, and kidnapping."_

_At the slur of 'it's alright' from Sherlock as the handcuffs clicked around his wrists, John proceeded to explain that it was not alright, and that it was ridiculous. The other man argued back, telling him not to interfere and threatening to arrest him too. He slunk back, looking defeated, accepting that the threat seemed quite appealling, now he'd thought about it._

"Sam?" Amy placed a hand on his shoulder, radiating a friendly warmth, even though he felt extremely cold.

"M'fine. Dizzy spell, that's all..." He half coughed, half laughed as he regained his balance. "I get them sometimes, and this space travel thing's making my brain go kind of fuzzy."

"You get used to it. Rory almost fainted the other day too."

"Hmm, really?" he still wasn't in the mood to have to piece proper sentences together.

"Yeah. At the sight of blood, which is odd as he's never really had a problem with it, being a nurse and all. Want to stay back here until they come back? Let them sort it out?"

"M'okay, I really am, Amy."

"You still look kind of pale, and let's face it, we'll be pretty unbelievable as Police investigators if there's any more than three of us."

"Rory and The Doctor have fake IDs to show them?"

"The Doctor has his psychic paper. It'll show them want they need to see."

...

The Doctor flipped his psychic paper at the policeman standing outside the flat, proceeding to also let Rory use it too. Dean flashed some kind of card that showed his 'authority', and the policeman nodded, signalling them to stand beside the police car.

A screeching noise filled the street, erupting in a squeal of radio feedback from the police car.

Dean turned to see the man, who he assumed must have been either Moriarty or Sherlock Holmes, clutching his hand around a gun, handcuffed to the other arrested man.

"Ladies and gentlemen, will you all please get on your knees!" he threatened them with two warning shots into the sky, probably killing a few birds while he was at it. "Now would be good!"

"Do as he says!" another male voice said with a shout of authority.

Dean, The Doctor and Rory followed the order, getting down onto their knees, as Amy and Sam ran forward at the sound of the gunshots.

"Just so you know, the gun was his idea. I'm his..." the man he was handcuffed to mumbled.

"My hostage!" the gun was now held to the side of the man's head, as he slowly edged away and darted off in the other direction.

"I've got this!" Dean nodded to the policeman, chasing behind the fugatives.

By the time he'd got to the alleyway, the two had already turned down the corner, and were obviously hiding somewhere behind the knocked over bins nearby. Dean was no Sherlock Holmes, but even he was capable of making the simple deduction. He stopped for a minute, realising that the two of them must have been trapped, judging by the fact that the direction they were heading in was blocked off by a tall metal gate. While he paused, he scoped the area, looking for any clues on who the two men were. He noticed something black, half-sitting in a puddle, and looked a little closer, realising that it was the fugative's gun. He clenched his hands around it, and headed off to find the two men.

Rory and The Doctor weren't far behind, coming around the corner just as Dean picked up the gun.

"Where's Sam and Amy?" he grunted at them as he analyzed the gun.

"Sam looked kind of pale back there. Amy stayed back with him to make sure he was alright, I think..." Rory wandered a few steps ahead of Dean to catch a glimpse of where the two men had run off too. "Looks like they're kind of trapped."

"Son of a bitch... Wait a sec. Those two aren't going anywhere. I'm going to go see if Sam's okay..." he ran back to meet the pair at the corner, stopping to get a look at his brother. "You look like crap."

"M'fine. I just... I know why they were arresting him."

"It doesn't matter, the guy's crazy. I'll go and get the-..." Dean was already running away.

"No Dean, wait!" but it was a lost cause, as Dean was already off.


	5. Premonition

**To the person asking about time lines, for Sherlock, it's obviously pretty straight forward. For Doctor Who, I'd say it's after series 6, during one of the days where The Doctor's decided to give them a spin in the TARDIS for a bit, and for Supernatural it has to be a bit AU, as every series has huge story arcs, so it's either set Season 5/6, without the main story arcs having happened(they still know the angels and maybe even stopped all of the seals from being broken), or far far beyond Season 7, where Dean and Cas are out of Purgatory somehow(face it, they'll be out of there soon enough for Season 8), and they don't have anything to defeat/fight against.**

**And to the other person asking if Castiel will feature in this, the answer is...I don't really know. If it seems appropriate at some point to bring him into the story, then he'll be in it. Hopefully I'll think of something, but you'll have to wait and see:D I actually have an idea, but it'd be further into the story that he'd come in...**

* * *

By the time Dean got to where the two men were 'trapped', the taller curly haired one had already jumped over the fence, but his unlucky, smaller friend seemed to have been left behind, leaving the other man unable to run on, due to the handcuffs on their wrists. Sam, still disorientated from his recent vision, chased as fast as he could behind his brother, but in his current state, his 'run' was no quicker than a slow jog. He could hear his brother's gruff voice, asserting his authority unnecessarily.

Thankfully, Sam managed to stagger his way to the alley before Dean beat the two men two death, the smaller man only getting away with a tiny bruise on his cheek, and the other man sporting a few scratches across his face from being battered against the fence.

"Dean!" he shouted over his brother's screaming, angry voice, pulling him away from the two men. "That's Sherlock, not Moriarty!"

"Then why the hell was he arrested?" Dean hissed, tensing his fists. "I thought you said Moriarty was the bad guy, you son of a bitch!"

"I hate to interrupt, but who are you to judge on my arrest?" Sherlock stood back, analyzing the brothers. "Well you're not from Scotland Yard, and those IDs you had were most definitely fraudulent."

"Sorry to intrude, but what were you being arrested for?" Sam asked politely.

"Supsected kidnap." he stated bluntly, refusing to deny or admit to it. "Ambassador's children."

"And did you take them?"

"Those in charge of this case are incompetent, I'll tell you that much."

"So that's a no then?"

"Yes."

"I've read the articl-..."

"Excuse me, but... My arm is almost being pulled out of it's socket here..." the smaller man groaned, pulling at the handcuff around his wrist. "Sherlock, jump back over or something..."

"Oh fine, John..." Sherlock huffed, clambering effortlessly back over the metal bars, and holding out his hand to Sam. "Sherlock Holmes."

"Uh, yeah..." Sam mumbled. "Sam Winchester, and this is my brother Dean."

Dean smirked, giving the man a little wave.

"John Watson," John followed what Sherlock had done. "Sorry to intrude, but why are you here?"

"No kind way to say this, but... I've seen you die." Sam explained to Sherlock, staring blankly at his new acquaintance. "In a dream... A premonition."

"Oh great, another crazy." Sherlock scoffed.

"The binary code is a fake, by the way. Moriarty's binary code. It means nothing."

"How do you know about that?"

"Like I said, I've seen it all in a dream. I know how Moriarty is going to try and get to you. I know his tricks. I know what his plan is. I could help you... Just... Our..." Sam stopped for a second, wondering if he could call Rory, Amy and The Doctor this. "Friends could help to stop him, and find out why I keep seeing you die..."

...

The vestigial pounding in Rory's head, that seemed to have been present since almost a year before, somewhere in between Berlin, and the creepy set of flats The Doctor had dragged them to, had increased to a noticeable ache, sewing his mouth shut at the fear that the broken sentences inside of his brain would come out slurred thanks to the oncoming headache. He'd been feeling odd prior to this trip with The Doctor. Nothing in particular- just a few upsetting dreams, featuring The Doctor's dead body and fire, not unlike the time where they had to burn 'him' all those months back in Utah, and the occasional vision of the man- who he knew to be Moriarty, through reading the newspapers- pointing a gun towards the back of his throat, ready to shoot and stain the pavement red, just before Sherlock prepared to jump.

"Rory?" Amy's voice seemed distant, although he could see her red hair from the corner of his eye. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Neck really hurts," he half lied, rubbing the area near the dressing above his shirt collar. "Don't worry about me, I'm fine. Tell The Doctor we'll keep watch, and he can run ahead and catch up with Sam and Dean."

"Rory, are you sure you're okay?"

"I was attacked earlier! Am I not allowed to be a little sore?"

"Head back to the TARDIS and lie low for half an hour. The Doctor will understand."

"Amy, I'm fine..." he wandered over, wrapped his arms around her, and kissed her head. "I just... I guess I wasn't in the mood for a trip out in the TARDIS this week."

"We haven't seen The Doctor in weeks, Rory!"

"It's just every time, we seem to run into some sort of trouble and I'm always the one that gets hurt. Why can't he compromise and come to ours for dinner instead once in a while?"

"Rory, trust me. Go back to the TARDIS and relax for a bit. You seem on edge..."

"Okay I'll go..." he mumbled, feeling the pain in his head grow in strength.

...

_Moriarty's body crashes against the ground, just like usual. Sherlock's body hurtles off the building, just like usual. But this time, he sees the smaller man standing at the grave, staring at the name- 'Sherlock Holmes'. The focus pans away, pointlessly showing Rory the trees, until... The tall man is standing there, staring at his friend, fighting against the guilt rising in his throat. He's alive. He's alive..._

_..._

Rory woke up on the TARDIS floor, his hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, and his usually steady hands shaking. It was not so much the contents of the dream that had left him in a state of shock, but more the drained feeling and residing headache behind his eyebrows that felt like it would never cease to go away. He pulled himself up, leaning against the control panel, as Sam and Dean entered the TARDIS, closely followed by Sherlock and John, and finally The Doctor and his wife. Sam's eyes fixated on him, as if he was reading him like a book, trying to decipher what was wrong with him, wondering if he too was dealing with the burden of the premonitions that plagued him both during the day and at night.


	6. Whimper

"Wait, why do we need to go into this police box?" Sherlock groaned. "And why is it bigger on the inside? This is impossible."

"We need to see why Sam's been having these dreams, and so far, you are the only link, apart from Moriarty," Dean explained. "The Doctor, as much as I hate to admit it, is the only one who'll be able to get to the bottom of this, seeing as my 'angel friends' are nowhere to be found."

"It'd also help if we found any others having the premonitions I've been having, and we know you're a consulting detective, so we believe you could be of help to us." Sam added, his eyes not once glancing away from Rory. "Plus, you'd get away from the cops."

"I admit, this is quite unusual, but... I guess... Although this is pretty improbable, once the impossible has been eliminated, whatever remains must be the truth," Sherlock stated, which was his long-winded way of agreeing to it.

"So where are we going?" Amy smiled.

"Nowhere any time soon..." The Doctor flounced around the control panel. "TARDIS won't start again."

"Who's hungry?" Sam said all of a sudden. "I'll go and get us some food, if you want."

"Get me pie." Dean grunted, not making eye contact with his brother.

"Rory, I don't know my way around here. Would you mind coming with?"

"Uh yeah, sure. I'm not too familar with London myself, but I've been here a couple of times..."

...

Once they were a few yards away from the TARDIS, Rory's eyebrows raised above a level that could've been deemed impossible, as he stared at Sam questioningly. He hadn't understood why this new acquiantance had asked for him to come, as he was sure as hell that it wasn't for directions. He winced, still stiff from his recent injuries, as they walked along the street.

"Why'd you want me to come?" he finally asked. "And I want the truth."

"I saw you talking to Amy earlier, when Dean and I were helping Sherlock and John. I... I recognized that feeling-" Sam started, but Rory cut him off.

"I was fine! I am fine!"

"You've seen Sherlock's fall too?"

"How'd you kno-"

"Something's going on. I'm not the only one having these premonitions. Last time I had these, there were hundreds with psychic powers, from different generations and everything. You were acting weird, so I just put two and two together."

"Have you seen anything else?"

"I've had this one other nightmare, about The Doctor. I assumed it was a flashback from something that happened a year ago, but it was...different. We had burned him, because Time Lord blood is valuable or something, but it wasn't in Utah like last year."

Rory sighed, breathing his frustrations out into the open. A year ago, it was easy for him to accept that life was going to be crazy with The Doctor, but now, after spending so much time in the 'real' world with just Amy for company, he couldn't just click back into the 'travelling Rory' persona. He usually would be completely indifferent towards Amy's admittedly still child-like faith in their old friend, but for some reason, on that particular trip, he ceased to put up with it. He was sick of everyone glorifying The Doctor, making him look like an unflawed being who could do no wrong, which was why Sam and Dean were a lightening addition to the group.

"You alright?" Sam noticed the decrease in Rory's walking pace.

Rory nodded, but Sam wasn't so convinced. He'd seen his brother bottle up his issues to the point where when he finally burst, he became an inconsolable mess, and he wasn't going to let his new friend do the same.

"Talk to me." he smiled calmly, providing the other man with a sense of trust in him.

"I'm just sick of travelling all the time. I'm fine."

"Anyway, food... What do Amy and The Doctor like?"

"The Doctor likes anything fishy, and Amy will have whatever I get, and Dean?"

"Anything edible, apart from salad."

...

Once they'd all devoured their food, Rory quickly excused himself, not in the mood to sit around listening to the discussion, or be involved in solving whatever it was they were trying to solve this time. It seemed that only Sam and Amy had noticed his absence, leaving the pair quiet during the others' discussion about the situation. The Doctor seemed a little bit more mellow than usual. Instead of being a flailing jumble of a man, he came across as unusually composed, even in the company of someone as sophisticated as Sherlock Holmes. The group seemed to gel well together; Sherlock was happy not to be in the company of a group of all idiots, having someone intellectually equal like The Doctor in his midst; Dean and John seemed to be on the same wavelength, as far as personality and attitude to the case went; and Sam relatability had quickly increased his friendship with Rory and Amy- arguably the most normal of the group- from being acquaintances to as if they'd known each other for a while, although it had only been a few hours.

At that moment in time, they'd been standing so long waiting for the TARDIS to cooperate, that most of them had resorted to sitting on the floor. Once or twice, John had suggested that they head back to the flat, but they'd decided that it'd be too risky for him and Sherlock to go back, in case the police had the flat guarded in the hope that the pair would return. The Doctor was the only one properly standing, as he paced the TARDIS floor, his hands clasped behind his back and his head facing the ground. Amy was sitting cross legged, twirling a lock of her red hair nervously, glancing over to the room that Rory was in. Sam and Dean were leaning against the control panel, half-sitting, half-standing as they conversed with the others, Sam describing the Sherlock dream in full detail.

"Do I get pushed, or do I jump off the ledge myself?" Sherlock asked, contorting his face with interest.

"You jump yourself," somehow, now the man was in front of him, Sam felt more comfortable thinking about the dream. "But when you jump, it's as if part of the fall is missing."

"How was Rory when you went to go and get food?" The Doctor asked suddenly. "He didn't seem himself."

"He was okay." Sam straightened up, getting ready to walk about for a bit because his leg had went to sleep. "I think he was just tired. He got pretty beat up back at that motel."

...

The hammer crashed against Rory's head in an almost ritualistic fashion, drilling the pain throughout his entire forehead. The pressure was building, threatening to shatter his skull into a million pieces.

_The Doctor is going to burn. _

The voice was nothing more than a hiss, but the last word seemed to go on forever, sending a ring through Rory's ears. He could faintly here the others laughing and talking in the other room, which did wonders for the monstrosity of a headache that had taken residence behind his eyebrows.

Sam was also suffering, feeling an immediate sudden agony creep up behind his eyes, before pouncing with full force. He writhed, slipping down from the control panel and into a sitting position on the floor. Whimpering, he pushed himself up to lean against the wall of the panel, his hand shaking as it pressed against the floor, his knuckles turning white.

_Tell The Doctor he's going to burn. Tell him! Tell him! TELL HIM!_

Almost instinctively, he screamed, gasping desperately for air as the voice crescendo'd. Dean rushed to his brother's side, grabbing his shoulder and shaking him as if it would knock some sense into him. Distantly, they could hear another set of whimpers, obviously coming from the other room of the TARDIS.

"Rory!" Amy pulled herself up from the floor and darted into the other room, ready to make sure her husband wasn't dead or dying or injured _again_.


	7. Interest

**I've just realised, there's a lack of monsters/villians, from Doctor Who and Supernatural alike, in this. I promise, they will show up soon. There won't be weeping angels(maybe a little reference or two here and there, but no solid plot arc) as they are over-used, but The Silence will definitely be part of a plot arc, and of course the Gallifreyans like Rassilon will be in this further towards the end, and Moriarty and possibly The Master...**

* * *

_The Doctor is going to burn..._

The thought sits over Rory, diffusing through the entire room so that whenever he moved, he couldn't escape the increasing concentration of pain burning through his skull. He was vaguely aware of the red-headed woman by his side, desperately shaking him to bring him back to full consciousness. He repeated the phrase in a murmur, so that the six words came out as one.

"T'D'r'g'n'b'rn..." He slurred, feeling his lips quiver with anxiety.

"What is it Rory?" Amy desperately stroked his hair.

"The Doctor..." he swallowed the lump at the back of his throat. "Is going to burn."

"Rory, talk sense! Please! You're scaring me!"

"The Doctor is going to burn." he regained an ounce of his usual personality. "Don't know what it means, but it's what someone told me."

"Nobody was talking to you?"

"Psychic energies."

"You're not psychic."

"Amy, I've seen what Sam's seen. I saw some of the things that happened to The Doctor last year before they happened. I may not be psychic, but that seems pretty psychic, don't you think?"

...

"EMF is going crazy," Dean laughed, trying to induce a little bit of humour into Sam's seemingly down mood. "Wanted to test the place, but you know..."

"It's a machine that travels anywhere in time and space, Dean. Of course the frequency is above zero hertz. It's practically what makes this heap of junk work. What's the frequency?" Sam asked.

"The needle won't stop moving enough to be able to read it."

...

Most of the group were asleep, apart from Sherlock and The Doctor. Like usual, Sherlock insisted he didn't need sleep, so was currently having a look around the TARDIS' control panel, figuring out how things would work, linking them back to the science behind them, confirming that the machine was in fact, not impossible. The Doctor pulled levers, rejigged the wiring of the scanner and even battered the control panel a few times, but the TARDIS still ceased to move. Sherlock noticed something on the floor, and bent down to pick it up.

"This is Dean's, yes?" he pointed it towards The Doctor. "It's an old walkman, but it's been rewired to measure... Electro-magnetic field, I presume."

"Could I see it?" The Doctor asked, practically prying it from the other man's hand. "Just what I need! Now lets see, this is really not good... Really, really not good."

"What?"

"TARDIS should be running an average frequency of about five thousand hertz. The Gallifreyans made it that way so it wouldn't mess with EMF meters like this, as quite a few planets have their own models. The reading keeps changing, which means something- such as power lines, or transformers- is messing up with the TARDIS, and preventing her from taking off..."

They stood in silence for a moment, until it was broken by the ringing of Sherlock's phone.

"Molly." Sherlock instantly identified who was calling him, before she'd even said a word. "What is it? Is it not a little late to be calling me?"

"It's only eleven? It's not late?" her voice was nervous.

"You want me to come to St. Barts don't you?"

"A body's just been brought in. Thought you could take a look."

"Lestrade isn't there, yes? And nobody else from Scotland Yard of the police?"

"Nope. Just me and my frie-... That wasn't funny."

"Don't make jokes Molly. Funny doesn't suit you."

...

Sam and Dean, used to just a few hours sleep, trudged through to the main room just before Sherlock and The Doctor were going to leave, and decided to tag along. Sam still seemed a little shaken up, but as usual, they ignored the lingering apprehension residing above their heads, threatening to pour down on them at the next shard of danger, and carried on. Sam wasn't sure why Dean wasn't as opposed to the case. It wasn't their usual run in with the angels, or salt and burn case, nor had Dean thought it was anything supernatural, and assumed that the more accurate word would've been _extraterrestrial, _but for some strange reason, he'd found himself enjoying the adrenaline, which felt alien as it pulsed through his veins, as opposed to fighting against it.

They arrived just as Molly had pulled the fabric from the head, revealing the body. Sherlock analysed the man for a second. He was no older than twenty five, and from the forming bruise on his temple, and the pattern of the ugly graze on his hairline, the consulting detective could tell that the man had fallen from a great height.

"He jumped off the roof of this building, apparently babbling on about voices talking about some doctor and burning, and it got two much for him..." Molly explained, pulling on a rubber glove. "I knew him. He was just about to leave... Who is this?"

"I'm The Doctor!" he smiled happily, holding out a firm hand for a handshake.

"Dean Winchester," the other man smiled, then pointed to the man next to him. "And this is my brother Sam."

"Hello." Sam nodded politely.

Despite harbouring the looks that could hypothetically nab any guy that caught her eye, Molly wasn't the type of girl Dean would go for. She seemed too book-smart, and there was a mildness about her eyes and mouth that proclaimed an unsettling natural disquietude that made him realise she'd be after commitment, as opposed to a couple of make out sessions and then a goodbye. Sam however, was enamoured with the woman. She'd spent months lusting over Sherlock, although she knew the attempts at romance would fall flat, but it had only taken minutes for this new man to take interest. Sam flashed a friendly smile, welcoming her into the group of new acquaintances with open arms. Unlike Amy, Molly wasn't overly forward with being involved in the case or anything else for that matter. In fact, the group had mutually agreed not to mention it to her, so she knew nothing of it, or Sherlock's new 'companions'. She accepted what she assumed that she deserved, taking the insults Sherlock threw at her, and the dismissals by everyone else, and put her head down to work in the the mortuary.

...

Unable to sleep after his failure to arrest Sherlock Holmes at 221B Baker Street, Greg Lestrade turned over in his bed to stare at the ceiling, letting his eyes sink into the swirling nothingness. He looked to the empty space beside him, where his unfaithful wife should have been. Cursing with tiredness, he slumped his head back into his pillow, wishing that the drooping of his eyelids would actually be a sign of his oncoming slumber.

_The Doctor will burn._

The voice was spoken, louder than a whisper, but quieter than a shout. It was perfectly in between, but powerful enough to pierce into his ears, causing him to wince with the sudden onset of pain.

He pulled himself up out of his bedcovers, heading through to his ensuite bathroom to splash some sense into his silly little head. He crossed his fingers that he wasn't getting sick- or worse, going insane- and felt his face for an increase in temperature. Realising that there was no sign of fever, his fears of possibly craziness were slowly becoming confirmed. _It's just a dream. _He comforted himself with the thought. _You're just sleeping, silly old Lestrade._


	8. Sleep

As Sam assisted Molly in taking a look at the body, making sure to look out for any marks or signs that could give him some answers on the psychic thing, Dean watched on, mentally applauding his brother for wooing the possible new girlfriend. He turned to aknowledge The Doctor, who held out a cup of tea for him, as well as his own in his other hand. Sherlock joined them a few seconds later, taking a long sip of his coffee as he leant against the table.

"You don't seem the type to believe in supernatural alien things." Dean stated to Sherlock in grumble. "You're the intellectual type- or more accurately, ignorant..."

"Dean, I'm probably the most observant man on Earth, and that's being modest..." Sherlock laughed. "You really thought I wouldn't have noticed supernatural beings, or other wordly things walking around the planet? Or psychics for that matter? There are multitudes of liars, but some of them must be telling the truth."

"I kind assumed... You're a rational man, and these kinds of things... aren't exactly what you'd call rational."

"I've always saw these things as improbable, not impossible. Most of the time, when people talk of psychics and aliens, it's all lies to make money, or get internet hits, but that doesn't mean one or two aren't telling the truth."

"And what about my TARDIS? I thought you'd be more surprised at it's size..."

"You underestimate me, Doctor. Of course I knew it was just another dimension. Not that exciting... It's John that'll be struggling to believe in this. He'll think it's a dream."

"What part of America are you from?" Molly looked over at Sam from across the table as he checked over the dead man's body. "And what brought you to London?"

"Kansas." He paused for a moment, forming an answer for the second question. "We're visiting John Watson. Dean served in Afghanistan alongside him. They're good friends."

"And you're helping out with one of Sherlock's cases? You must be special."

"Dean and I do the same kind of thing back in America. We just take on slightly more obscure cases."

Sam smiled at the girl, who smiled back gently. There was something about the softness of her smile that reminded him of someone. _Jess. _He didn't particularly want to think about her, as years had passed since her death, and he was already being reminded of it thanks to his situation with the premonitions. He didn't want to see the other girl when he looked at this new acquaintance- he wanted to see _Molly. _

Molly had caught on to his apprehension as he spoke to her, asking her questions about her life, and job and the body in front of them, but had assumed that it was because she'd scared him off, ruining her chances of any future romance between the two. She cursed her bad luck, cringing back a year ago, when she'd dated _the _master criminal, James Moriarty, himself. In fact, there was something about sam that reminded her of him, and it scared the life out of her. He had this way of turning up the corners of his mouth, almost like a smirk, but less happy looking, and then speaking in a soft, welcoming voice, convincing her to trust him. She trusted him of course, but she didn't want to. For all she knew, the less mysterious Winchester would be the better bet to talk to, but she couldn't pull herself away from the enigma that was his brother.

...

"So what do you think this is?" Dean spoke quietly to the two other men. "Sam's visions, I mean? Any ideas on what could be causing them?"

"Hallucinogenic drugs? Subliminal messaging?" Sherlock suggested. "There's no way to be sure without any proof."

"Prophecy, wired into the brains of those having the visions?" The Doctor added, taking a bite of his jammy-dodger.

"It's not the cosmos, Doctor. I'd know. The last time Sam had visions, it was Azazel, a yellow-eyed demon. This... it seems different. Almost like it's a warning."

"Prophecy doesn't necessarily have to come from angels. In fact, my kind have quite a few 'prophets', if I'm remembering correctly."

"Maybe it's the Gallipagans, or whatever then?"

"_Gallifreyans..._" The Doctor corrected him. "It could well be. I'll look into it, Dean. I'm more worried about why the TARDIS is acting up. It's as if the circuit is broken. As if one thing not working is accounting for the rest of it not working."

"What could fix this hypothetical circuit then, spaceman?"

"It could be a person, or an object, or something we have to do or work out."

"Get everyone into the TARDIS. There might be something one of us knows, that the others don't." Sherlock stated, signalling Sam to come over. "We're heading back."

...

The group positioned themselves in a circle in the dark TARDIS control room, hoverering around the thought in the middle, scratching at their minds willing and wanting them to succumb to the overwhelming anxiety of the uncertainty of what the others may have known. They'd spent hours at the morgue, and left early morning, but despite the obvious tiredness seeping through them, the adrenaline willed them on. Sherlock sat, sandwiched between Amy and Dean, with his legs curled up to his chest, and his head floating a few inches above his knees. Amy was cross legged, leaning back slightly into Rory, who was slightly hunched over, hiding his fatigue by staring at the floor and avoiding eye contact with others. Dean cleared his throat to break the silence, waiting for someone else to talk.

"I don't know anything else." John was the first to speak. "I hardly even know what's going on, period."

"Rory's been acting sort of strange." as Amy spoke, her husband's head shot up. "I'm sure you've all noticed."

The first circle didn't result in any confessions. They just sat in silence, repeating similar points over and over. Most of them have nothing to say, but two or three of them at least know something. Amy knew. Rory knew. Sam knew. And of course, Sherlock has figured it out too, but the other three were clueless. After realising that nobody was going to speak, they headed to bed, ready to repeat the same thing the next day. Sam refused to sleep, not wanting to give in to the nightmares; to let them win. The same thing happens for the next week. They sit there in silence for hours, nobody talks and Sam doesn't sleep for more than an hour each day.

Around the eighth day, Dean had caught onto his brother's current state, but he put it down to being under the weather, which was a complete and utter lie, or that the headaches that came with the repetitive nightmares were getting to him, and oddly enough, Dean believed it.

That same day, a cranky Sam decided to spill.

"Rory's been seeing the same things I've been seeing, okay?" as soon as Sam spoke, the TARDIS churtled as it began to work.

The Doctor ignored the statement, as if it didn't really matter whether Rory was having premonitions or not. Dean was indifferent too, and John Watson was still equally as confused as he had been eight days ago.

"So where are we going, spaceman?" Dean smirked at The Doctor, standing beside him at the control panel. "Narnia?"

"Apalapucia!" he smiled back, opening his arms wide with a flail. "And don't worry. I'll make sure we don't drop in during the Chen7 epidemic."

"I'm not sure if I trust that statement, Doctor." Amy laughed, joining the other two at the control panel.

"At the time we're stopping in at, the worst we can get is the common cold. There's a little bit of an outbreak at the time we're going, but I need to talk to someone, and it's either this, or at the Two Streams Facility."


	9. Talk

**Thanks to anyone who has reviewed this story or put it on their alerts or read it:) I'm really enjoying writing it:D **

**To 'Ebonylovessamanddean', yes Sam and Dean are brilliant! Personally I love Eleven. I think Matt Smith is amazing in the role, and there's obvious similarities between the way he plays The Doctor, and how some of the classic Doctor Who actors played him. I adore David Tennant in the role, but I like Matt Smith equally.**

* * *

The paradise planet that was Apalapucia had lived up to their expectations. From the soaring spires, silver collonades and the mirrored Glasmir Mountains, to the pinkish-purple sky, the planet oozed with beauty. Dean glared in amazement, feeling his heart twinge with fervency. The man, who'd seen angels and miracles happen before his very eyes, was reduced to a state of awe by the glimmer of the planet. Sherlock took his time to analyze the planet, mentally noting the chlorophyll filled green plants' flowering patterns.

The taller Winchester was the only one who was seemingly unfazed by it all. Even Rory, who barely batted an eyelid when he first entered the TARDIS, and Sherlock, who never seemed enthusiastic about anything other than being right, were skipping forward to admire the scenery. It wasn't that he didn't find the planet stunning and paradise-like. He was running on about an hour's sleep, having barely slept a wink the whole week, so it was hard to be excited when all he wanted to do was curl up and sleep peacefully. He stifled a yawn as he stared at the plant in front of him, trying to whip up some kind of interest in it, but gave up, closing his eyes for a second to calm himself down. Dean noticed the stiffness in his brother's stance, and the heavy frown of his eyebrows, and scuttled over, pressing his hand against his brother's forehead.

"You're not warm." he grunted.

"Can't be too careful." The Doctor grinned, waving his sonic screwdriver around in front of him. "This place can sometimes be a breeding ground for infection. Imagine five million rabbit-... No wait don't. That's inappropriate."

"Sammy... Speak to me..." Dean spoke quietly, placing his hand on his brother's drooping shoulder.

"It's Sam." he groaned, feeling the pain in his head escalate. "And I'm fine. Just in shock. This place is...amazing."

"Okay..." Dean didn't look convinced, but plodded onwards to catch up with The Doctor, who'd ran ahead for everyone to follow him.

Sam felt his head get heavier, to the point where he was struggling to keep his neck straight. He desperately needed to get some sleep, even if he was going to have to sit though the nightmares again. Anyone else would've admitted it, and went back to the TARDIS to sleep, but Sam insisted on going on. After walking five minutes, he knew he wouldn't be able to go on for much longer. He shivered as he became overwhelmed by the tiredness, giving into it's tempting grasp.

He crashed onto the silvery-grey ground below his feet, his head feeling like it was about to explode. John reached to feel for his pulse, which was thankfully perfectly alright. Dean ran back, desperately waiting for his brother to regain conciousness. Thankfully, he was awake within a few seconds.

"What happened?" he mumbled, his head still spinning slightly.

"You passed out," Rory stated.

"Apalapucia, like I said is a breeding ground for infection." The Doctor knelt down beside Sam. "Come here, without having slept a wink? You should go before you catch anything. Head back to the TARDIS, Sam. Sleep it off."

"M'fine. I've just hardly slept." He muttered.

"Sam, why do you always do this?" Dean snapped. "You need sleep!"

"Dean, cool it." Rory's voice was calm. "I'll head back to the TARDIS with him, make sure he's okay."

...

"Dean says you've to sleep." Rory glared up at Sam, who was swaying slightly as he stepped into the TARDIS.

"And you think I'm going to listen to him?" Sam's voice was shaky as he stared back, still feeling slightly dizzy. "I'm fine."

"You just face planted onto the ground!"

"A cup of coffee and a bowl of soup and I'll be fine, I promise."

"Sam."

"I'm fine-" he stopped, feeling the dull ache in his skull increase. "Okay maybe I'm not."

"Vision?"

"Ah..." he winced in pain. "I think so."

"Give into it Sam. It's not worth the agony." Rory was almost in tears at the sight of his new friend, writhing desperately trying to resist the tempting escape from the overwhelming pain in his head. "Believe me, I've tried! It's not worth it Sam! It's really not worth it!"

"No." Sam practically hissed, feeling the tightness from his head creep down his neck and make his throat hurt. "I can't, Rory. You don't-"

"Stop it Sam! You don't think it's awful for me? I've seen my best friend die so many times. Not just in the bloody dreams. In _real life! _I bloody effing wish I could abstain from the dreams- from _what I've seen in real life!_"

"I've seen my _brother _die. Multitudes of times. My _mom _is dead _because of me!_" Sam's voice had escalated into a shout. "So don't you dare, for one second, question my resistance to this!"

"I gave in, Sam." Rory's voice is soft. "Two minutes ago, at the same time you started to refuse. It's not a bad vision. It's just...explaining."

"What?" he choked, his voice quivering away.

"The Doctor was right. It's the Gallifreyans doing this. These psychic energies- prophecies, if you wish- are the only link they've got between the time lock and here. They are just sending us what they've seen- a prophecy of their own- in the hope that if we can stop it, or prevent it, The Doctor may be thankful enough to put some effort into bringing them back."

"Why would I want those bastards to explain?" There was an uneasy savagery lingering behind Sam's eyes, hiding behind the thick layer of vulnerability. "I just want to be _normal. _No demon blood, no Lucifer, no visions! I never get a break, ever."

Rory didn't know what to do. He was terrified as he looked up at the taller man, who could most definitely do some damage should he lash out to punch him, but on the other hand the poor guy looked grief-stricken and in pain, and in desperate need of some comforting. He completely understood the other man's pain. Rory himself was tired of the burdens that came from never getting a break, and was just as frustrated at the new thing he had to deal with.

"You're in pain, Sam." Rory spoke breathlessly, the fear evident in every syllable. "You'll make yourself ill if you don't give into the dream."

Sam couldn't hold on any longer. He clammered to the floor, shivering, his hair soaked in sweat. He saw Rassilon, watching the events of The 'Great' Time War unfold time and time again. He listened to his authorative tone as he discussed the 'psychics' with his second in command. He talked about a new army, bonded by what he called 'silence', formed of the group of children they'd 'captured', who would eventually be genetically modified into 'human plus time lord', which would make it easier for them to transfer their inner bodies into theirs, as if they were vessels.

"Now will you sleep?" Rory laughed half heartedly.

"Yeah..." he stumbled through to the other room, and fell asleep almost immediately.

...

Despite the exhaustion seeping through every bone, muscle, organ and nerve in his body, Sam found himself unable to sleep for much longer than three hours. The short nap had helped a bit, but the shakiness of his limbs hadn't subsided. He staggered back through to the control room, where Rory was stood.

"You didn't have to wait here." Sam yawned.

"Tried to find them. They're pretty far ahead. It'd be stupid for me to go and and get myself lost on a foreign planet." Rory watched as Sam walked to where Rory was standing. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I got hit by a...Planet."

"Probably did. I spent twenty minutes looking for them, and I can still feel the germs sneaking up my nose. The Doctor wasn't half wrong when he talked about the breeding ground that is Apalapucia. I wouldn't be surprised if they came back spluttering in a few hours. I looked it up on the TARDIS scanner. There's been four different epidemics this month."

"Dean will be fine. Once you've met Pestilence face to face, your immune system can handle tiny little viruses and crap no problem."

"I wonder where they've gone though. Maybe they got lost."


	10. Bullet

The Doctor and Sherlock led the way, with Amy not too far behind them, and Dean and John leading behind, with their guns at the ready should any rogue Apalapucians have appeared. They'd been walking for at least two hours, and the humid air of the foreign planet was slowly, but most surely, getting to a few of them. Sherlock had lost the elegant bounce in his step, and was reduced to a reduntant, yet fast paced shuffle, as his aching feet threatened to buckle as they trekked over the bumpy Apulapucian terrain. Amy was also struggling to fight the temptation of the relaxing tiredness that was controlling our body.

"Who is it we're looking for anyway, spaceman?" Dean yawned, perching down on a sparkly blue rock for a quick rest.

"I don't know his name," The Doctor sighed, sighing tiredly, which was unusually out of character for him. "But he's our only hope. He's anonymous, and probably will remain this way when we meet him."

"But _who_ is he? Why are we here?"

"It's just... it's mythical space legend. In the past few years, it seems like he is one of the only things in the universe that has had any contact with the Gallifreyans in the Time Lock. If anyone knows anything at all, it will be him."

"You said like five minutes ago that nothing can get into the Time Lock, and nothing can get out."

"Nothing _physical..._Apart from maybe a star. Telepathic energies could easily pass through the Lock, with the right kind of transmitting signal."

"I don't like this planet." Dean stated harshly. "It's beautiful, but once you look past the glamour, I bet this place is hiding some awful characters. I'm usually not one to hide away from danger, but I think we should head back to the TARDIS. You don't know who or what you are looking for!"

"I didn't... I didn't think about that." The Doctor swallowed the little ounce of pride he had left at his mistake. "Maybe Sam and Rory have seen something?"

"Four hours of walking in a germ filled, humid climate. _Brilliant..._" John cursed, turning around to head the other way.

"Oh so now we're giving up, Doctor?" Amy gasped with an erupting laugh. "That's not like you!"

"There's nothing to give up, Amy." he sighed, accepting his defeat. "I got caught up. I wanted to show you guys Apalapucia, forgetting that I barely even know who the man we were looking for is! All I know is that during this time period, he may have known about the Time Lock and that in the only other time we could reach him, he was dying of Chen7."

...

_Three shots. Three men. Three deaths. _

_Dean crashed to the floor, gasping and wincing and screaming for his sacred life. The sniper was long gone, the smoke drifting off the end of his gun as he bolted. The Winchester could feel the blood- thick and red, and spewing out unhealthily- from the wound in his back. He choked, staining his chin with the congealed substance. He staggered towards the TARDIS, reaching to knock with his last ounce of energy, unable to die without saying a proper goodbye to his brother first._

_John staggered away from the hospital, the image of Sherlock's still, cold body lying on the pavement etched into his mind. The bullet spliced through his back, firing deeply into his flesh as his body planted itself on the ground with a thud. The sniper was clearing up after himself, stuffing the gun into his bag, before dashing out of the building._

_Rory glared at the sniper, feeling the cool tip of the gun against his neck. He was perfectly capable of grabbing it from the man, but something inside of him had hoisted itself up into his gullet, leaving him unable to move without the threat of a bout of retching. _

_"Shoot me." he whispered. "Come on, shoot me!"_

_The bullet burned through his throat, carving a hole through his esophagus as it worked its way into his neck._

_..._

The ear piercing scream erupted from the other room, forcing Rory into panic mode. Sam had decided to try and get a little bit more sleep while they waited for the others to get back, so Rory understood what had happened.

"What did you see, Sam?" he demanded calmly, standing in the door frame as he watched the other man get up.

"Dean, John and you..." he swallowed the sickly saliva that had filled his mouth, shivering slightly as he stood up. "All three of you got shot..."

"Vision?" Rory queried. "My head feels fine. Usually when one of us have a vision, the other one gets it soon after..."

"I don't know..."

...

The rest of the group arrived back in the TARDIS about an hour later, complaining of being tired, and having achy feet, and not in the mood for anything bad to happen.

"Dean?" Sam perked his head into the control room. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"What is it Sammy?" he nodded, slowly walking through to meet his brother."

"I'm so sorry."

"No need to apologize to me, you son of a bitch. The only person you're harming if you don't sleep is yourself."

"Dean, that's not true. I scared the hell out of you when I passed out, and back in the TARDIS, Rory didn't hold back telling me how stupid I was." Sam stared at the floor, his hands shaking with a fervent apprehension. "I'm not fit to be on this case, Dean. Talking about all of this, being so close to what's making me so miserable... I can't, Dean. I can't."

"Rory's coping, why can't you be the same?" Dean raised his voice slightly, forcing out an angry growl through a few of his words.

"He's been on the TARDIS for ages. He's saw The Doctor die before. He's saw Amy die before-"

"And you've seen me die, Sam. For real. You can deal with a couple of dreams featuring people you didn't know before a week ago-"

"Dean. I don't wan-... No, I_ can't _be on the case."

"Where the hell are you going to go then?"

"We can sort that out..."


	11. Evil

**You know, what other Superwholock fic would have a dancing curry party? I thought I'd get them all out of their minds before they hear the...bad news at the end of this chapter so...**

While the rest of the group stayed in the control room, waiting for The Doctor to take them to Amy and Rory's house in Leadworth for their well deserved takeaway curry, Sam resided in the room he'd spent most of the day in, not entirely sure if he was welcome in the company of everyone else, considering he was bailing on them. Amy slid off her shoes and sat cross legged on the floor, tugging on Rory's arm to coax him into joining her. Dean and John were engrossed in conversation, talking about guns or food or cars or something else super masculine like that. Sherlock was talking to The Doctor about something scientific- quarks or something like that, which went straight over Dean's head as he overheard the conversation- which was keeping him from taking off.

"Can you stop discussing confusing things and take us home so we can eat?" Amy laughed whole heartedly, snuggling into her husband as she glared at The Doctor. "I'm hungry."

"Come on then, let's go!" The Doctor turned around and pulled the lever beside him. "Where's Sam?"

"Being a moody son of a bitch." Dean noted, glaring down at the floor at the mention of his brother's name. "Now hurry up. I need food. Now."

...

"Ah, home." Rory smiled happily, wrapping his arm around Amy's waist as he threw the phone at Dean. "Order whatever you want."

Dean stared at him, a dazed look on his face, "I don't know the number. Anyway I don't want curry, I want pie."

"Too bad." Amy stole the phone from him and headed off to dial the number.

Sam pressed his back against the wall, wordless as the rest of them rambled on between each other. Usually, he'd make an effort to make conversation regardless of his mood, but he was past even trying. His lips remained shut, sealed against any possible communication for the next hour or so. Not one of them seemed to notice the lingering silence circling around him, apart from maybe Amy, who'd whispered a quiet 'are you okay?' to which the Winchester had replied to with a small nod of his head. Dean had probably noticed it too, but he was not in the mood to deal with his brother's angst, so ceased to aknowledge it. And of course Sherlock had acknowledged it, but he ceased to act upon it, based on the fact that he didn't really care.

Half an hour into waiting for their meal to be delivered, Amy had flung a CD into the player, blaring the loud music from the speakers, filling the room with noise. With little persuasion, she'd coaxed The Doctor into dancing with her, and with a little bit more effort, Rory was led into busting a move too. Dean sifted through the couple's music collection, selecting something that was more to his taste and switching the CD. With a swig of his beer, he fist-pounded to the music excitedly.

"Rising up," he paused with the music, pointing at Amy as he sang out of tune. "Back on the street, took my time, took my chances..."

"Went the distance now I'm back on my feet!" Rory joined in, sounding much better than Dean.

The Doctor was in full-fledged dancing mode, floating around every corner of the room clumsily, pointing at everything and everyone over-enthusiastically, to the extent where he'd almost poked John in the eye. John tapped his foot, singing quietly along to the lyrics with a smile on his face as he sipped his beer. Even Sherlock was grinning, looking more interested than the rest of the group expected. Sam, however, was still completely silent, refusing to let himself and his sour mood be acknowledged.

"It's the..." Dean swaggered over to Sam, waving his finger in his brother's face to coax him into having a good time. "EYE OF THE TIGER!"

"Go annoy someone else, Dean..." Sam laughed with no enthusiasm.

"Come on, Sammy! Chill out and enjoy yourself for once!"

"_Somebody's_ had a bit too much to drink."

"I've had one bottle. I'm not drunk."

"_And I'm a llama riding a unicorn on a rainbow.._." Sam spoke with a tone of sarcasm.

"If it's your last night with us, you might as well make it a good one."

"Last night?" Amy gasped, her eyes wide with surprise. "Sam, please tell me you're not leaving us! Please!"

"I might be-... I will be. In the next few days, once I've organized accomodat-"

"Stay here?" she suggested.

"Or you could stay in 221B while Sherlock and I are away?" John noted.

"But don't go Sam. We want you on the TARDIS wi-"

"I've already made my decision, Amy. I don't want to be on the TARDIS at this moment in time. I'm not...coping."

...

Despite the slurs of denial, there was no truth in the lie that Dean wasn't drunk. His upbeat persona didn't seem to bother the rest of the group though, as they weren't far behind joining him. The Doctor, although having been unable to finish one glass of wine, due to the fact it tasted- in his words- like 'Silurian urine', but the lack of intoxication didn't prevent him from climbing onto the table, giving a 'heart-felt' speech about how much of a good time he was having with the new boarders on the TARDIS. Even Sam had loosened up a little, his hands clasped around his second beer of the night as he watched Amy and Rory, who were up dancing again. Sherlock, of course, was as calm and composed as ever. It had been a while since he'd been in the situation to relax and have a good time, and although he didn't bother showing off his moon walk or running man, he enjoyed chatting to people of subsequent intelligence, and his deduction skills worked wonders as a party trick.

The music slowly died down, their attention drawn to the television instead as they decided to see what was on. Dean, who'd initiated the idea of watching the TV, threw the remote down in frustration.

"Don't you have cable?" he stared at the screen, reading the names of the channels. "You have no good channels! I mean, who's Dave?"

"This is Sky. We have all the good channels." Rory reached for the remote. "How about a film?"

"Put on the Ten O' Clock news?" John suggested.

The group stared at the screen, their eyes fixated on the face that appeared. The majority of them- John and Sherlock especially- were familiar with the man, and even Dean, who'd only ever seen one picture of him. Everything about the man claimed evil, from the ironed Westwood suit with round collared shirt that oozed the image of power, but drowned the small man, just like the overflowing authority he was being given, to the way the corner of his eye twisted, resembling a crooked pin, piercing into Dean's neck just from looking at the man.

"Concerning the recent kidnapping of the British ambassador to the US' children, it has been confirmed that Jim Moriarty, who was recently declared as not guilty for the recent break in to Pentonville Prison and the Bank of England, is officially a suspect." the newsreader read off of the paper in front of him. "Sherlock Holmes, who was called as a witness in court for Moriarty's crimes, is also being considered as a possible suspect. Currently, both men have been filed as missing, so if you see either of these men, or even think you've seen them please alert the police."

"Crap," Dean stared at Sherlock for a second. "You're a fugitive."

"What a fabulous deduction on your part, Dean Winchester." Sherlock smiled, oozing with sarcasm. "I will have to be careful, or I'll be out of a job because of you... I'm being sarcastic, if you haven't deduced that yet."

"No shit, Sherlock."


	12. Burn

Despite their previous drunkenness- which was now proving to be less extreme than they'd originally let on- the group was sprung into action by the news that people would be looking for Sherlock, their eyes scoping their surroundings like a hawk's, determined to get the man locked up in jail for his 'crime'. Dean and Sam could understand, having run from the general public many a time, back when those stinking Leviathans wore their faces while on a crime spree. They couldn't risk losing a vital member of their team, knowing, that if they were going to track down other psychics and stop a few of the deaths from happening, that they needed Sherlock's perspicacious means of observing a situation.

After they piled into the TARDIS, Sam included so they could say their goodbyes, and so he could receive the keys to both Amy and Rory's house and car, and John and Sherlock's flat, they had finally decided that it would be a good idea for the younger Winchester to stay behind. He could easily manage to keep the antagonist in his pen, and he was most definitely the best man- apart from Sherlock and John- for the job. Through hunting, he'd learnt how to see _and _observe, and although he was no Sherlock Holmes, they were sure he'd be more than capable of solving a few of the cases while he was away. Sherlock had given him a few tips on how to get Scotland Yard's trust, and The Doctor helped by providing him with a piece of psychic paper, which- no offense to the hard work Dean put into getting them made- was a whole lot better than the risky fake IDs they kept a stash of in the Impala.

...

"We're going to have to stock up on weapons." Dean announced, just as he shut the door on Sam. "Guns, blades, that sort of thing-"

"No." The Doctor stated the word calmly, glaring at Dean as if he'd just committed murder.

"Listen, spaceman... I understand you like your peaceful protests, or whatever, but if we want things done quick and fast, we need to be armed."

"So we stop people from dying by _killing _others? Bit of a double standard we've got here."

"Don't give me any of your moral bull crap, spaceman. I'm not saying we're going to be trigger happy, but if we run into a demon or something to savage to reason with we're going to need to kill the bitch!"

"I understand, but if we go into a situation expecting trouble, that's all we're going to get in return."

"We'll need knives for cutting rope and things." John, ever the voice of reason, spoke up, his voice calm and oozing with a logical intelligence. "It's just practical that they double as weapons as well as tools."

"And guns?" The Doctor flung his arms in the air, in despair. "What good do they do us?"

"Security. Those sons of bitches see us with weapons, and half of them are too cowardly not to run away," Dean explained, his logic becoming more and more appealing to the non-violent Doctor. "If we're going to stop the people in the dreams from dying, we'll need to be safe."

"So we're going to kill people to stop people from dying? Bit of a double standard we've got going on, isn't it? Alright, have your scary weapons of death."

...

_The fire took the reigns from Sam, for the first time in days as he finally gave into the glittering temptation of a full night's sleep. Burning through him, tearing at his withering bones, diffusing through every cell in his body like oxygen, making his blood boil. He'd wake up, but the overwhelming tiredness pressing down on his eyelids, and restricting his body from sitting up was not a battle he was willing to contend with. _

_"Get out of the house, Charlie!" he saw a mother, choking on the smoke surrounding her, shouting at her son with loving desperation. "I need to get your sister!"_

_"Mummy, I'm scared..." the seven year old whimpered, fixated on the spot as he coughed. _

_"Charlie, I'm just going to get your sister, okay? You need to get out of the house or else you'll get hurt. Run down to the chip shop we always go to and get him to phone a fire engine."_

_"Mummy, please... I'm scared..."_

_"I know, kiddo, but you need to be a brave big boy and do what mummy's asking you to do so the fire doesn't hurt me or Katherine."_

_And bless the kid, he ran for their lives. By the time he got to the chip shop- which Sam recognized to be the one The Doctor had parked the TARDIS beside when they first arrived in London- he'd barely choked out his request in a sob, before the man was on the phone, dialing 999._

_..._

He woke up, lying sprawled on Amy and Rory's sofa. It took his fumbled brain a couple of seconds to register that the rest of them had left, before the memory of his dream hit him like a ton of bricks. His head ached, and he couldn't ignore the tinge of heat pulsing from his skin and the fact that his back was soaked in sweat. Instantly knowing that his dream had been a vision, he knew he'd have to do something about it. He forced himself up from the chair and headed into Amy and Rory's kitchen, crossing his fingers that they had a stash of painkillers somewhere to dull the consistent banging in his skull. He downed two ibroprufen, before reaching for the keys to Rory's Mini Cooper, ready to investigate. He barely left himself time to realize that it was already evening, as he hadn't crashed until about three in the morning.

...

"Honestly, Donovan..." Detective Inspector Lestrade- who'd hardly slept- sighed. "I'm fine."

"You don't look it," the small police woman glared at him. "Dimmock can handle the case, if you're not feeling up to it."

"I'm fine!"

"If you say so... Anyway, there's been a fire, not to far from here."

"Since when has this been our division?"

"One of the witnesses saw Moriarty."

...


	13. Pain

**Someone from an episode of Doctor Who(Series 6) may be making an appearance soon, if you'd like to guess who it may be:') Hint? He was adorable.**

"Where were you when the fire occurred?" Lestrade directed his question at Sam, who was sat on the kerb nearby the burnt down house, the witness.

"Fish and chip shop round the block." Sam answered truthfully, his voice sounding slightly ragged. "The little boy ran in for help, and was saying that his mum and sister were still in the building, so I ran round to try and save them."

"And did you?"

"Yeah. The little girl inhaled quite a bit of smoke, and her mum too, but I got in there just in time. They'll be okay, I think."

"So you said that you think you saw Jim Moriarty?" Lestrade changed the subject, staring at the Winchester with judgmental eyes.

"Oh, I know I saw him."

...

_He thought back to when he had ran into the building, his main focus on saving the family. The ear piercing scream, slightly gravelly in tone, erupted from the little girl in a room upstairs, just a little bit louder than the crackling of the fire that engulfed the living room and kitchen. He coughed into his elbow, feeling the smoke irritate his throat, as he bolted up the staircase. The mother of the little girl, overwhelmed by the thick smoke diffusing through the room, ran lethargically out of the little girl's room with the child._

_"Run!" Sam practically grabbed her, helping her as her legs almost gave in underneath her. "I've got you."_

_They escaped the house, with seconds to spare, as the flames flickered again, devouring more of the small house with their savagery. _

_"Thank you..." the woman choked out as they were at a safe distance from the fire. _

_"Your son did great. The fire department's been-" Sam went on to explain, stopping at the sight of someone._

_A heap of flesh, dressed in a torn Westwood suit, had resided at the bottom of the street. It's hands clenched at it's head, writhing and wincing in obvious discomfort. The man cursed in pain, although his voice still managed to sound threatening, despite the obvious discomfort. A lighter had fallen out of his pocket, and sat a few inches Sam would've ran to help him, but there was something about the tone in the man's screams that unsettled him, making him wonder if the bundle of agony in front of him was really the consulting criminal he'd been hunting down. Something- whether it was anger or curiosity- welled up inside of him, forcing him into action to find out who it was. _

_He'd have persevered with this task, if he wasn't forced onto the ground, not unlike the other man a few yards away, by the agonizing pain pulsing through his skull, causing him to whelp desperately as standing became almost impossible._

_'Tell The Doctor he has to die, Sammy.' the voice pierced inside of his brain. 'You need to tell him for me.'_

_..._

"He was in pain. His head, I think." Sam continued to explain to Lestrade. "But he got up a bit before the firetruck arrived, and ran off. I'm sure it was him."

"Donovan, send for Anderson and the rest of the team at forensics to search for any evidence of him being here- fingerprints and that sort of thing." Lestrade nodded in Sally Donovan's direction, having been reminded of the headache he'd fought against just before they drove there.

They stood in silence for a moment, observing as the paramedics attended to the sobbing four year old and her mother. The seven year old boy was also in tears, gasping out something incoherent behind his cries.

"What is it, kiddo?" Sam bent down to the kid's level, not wanting to intimidate the shorter person with his height.

"It's m'fault." he mumbled, rubbing his eye tiredly. "I saw the fire in my nightmare."

"It's not your fault, Charlie," he smiled at him calmly. "I bet your mum is so proud of you."

"I am." his mother smiled. "Thank you, Charlie. You were so brave. And thank you... What's your name?"

"I'm Sam." he introduced himself. "Sam Winchester."

"I'm Carrie. Thank you for being so selfless and saving us. Are you okay? You're not hurt?"

"Don't worry about me. As long as you and your family is safe."

"You were hurt," Charlie blurted out of the blue. "You fell."

"I had a bit of a headache. I'm okay."

"Must be something going round. I had a headache earlier too." Lestrade commented.

...

Adjusting to the teething problems of life on the road in their little blue box was proving to be a difficult task. Whilst Amy and Rory had grown accustomed to staying on the TARDIS, they had to adapt to having the new faces. Despite spending a week prior to the current events in the box, the added stresses of actually travelling as opposed to being parked in the middle of London were proving difficult to contend with. The idea of flying wherever the TARDIS took them was unsettling on Dean's stomach. Considering that this was the man who had to hum Metallica just to stop himself from spewing over his brother on a plane, feeling just a little queasy in something was an accomplishment for the older Winchester.

They hurtled off, seeing if the TARDIS would take them anywhere where they'd be of assistance. The blue box had later proven unhelpful in the task, taking them to places where they're help was unneeded, and the numerous trips back and forward were proving difficult for Dean to deal with. He swallowed down the thick wad of anxiety that pawed at his throat, overwhelmed by the enormity of the task at hand. It didn't help that Sam's absence had already left him on edge. The doubt pumped through his heart, letting the mistrust for his brother seep through his every conscious thought, intertwining around his queasy insides, forcing the ball of anxiety further up his gullet.

"You're quiet." Amy commented, coming to join him by standing at the other end of the control room. "Still feeling rough after last night?"

"Come on! I didn't drink _that _much!" Dean protested, although his enthusiasm wasn't apparent.

"Oh _please! _you were dancing on the coffee table... _topless._"

"Can't you just turn on your vision thingy, or something?" he turns his attention to Rory. "Give us something to do?"

"Not as simple as that, I'm afraid," Rory huffed. "Head hurts though, but I'm not sure if it's a sign that I'm going to see something, or the effects of last night..."


	14. Theatre

**Disclaimer(meh I've got time to waste so I'll write one for once): Don't own Doctor Who, Sherlock or Supernatural, obviously. I also do not own the play Hamlet or any quotations which is performed in Rory's premonition and will feature in their first case, and it belongs to the one and only William Shakespeare:)**

* * *

For_ some reason, without even seeing it, Rory's sure of the date that the dream takes place in. It's somewhere in the middle May in the year 2028. A boy is standing on the stage. Despite being so young, no older than eighteen, he somehow managed to fill the almost empty theatre with his stage presence. He's not said a word yet, the dream almost waiting for Rory to actually pay attention.  
_

_"To be, or not to be- that is the question." his delivery of the famous soliloquy is bland, at very best. "Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer-"_

_"Stop!" the director stops him, his voice filled with distaste. "I'm not getting anything from you, Alfie."_

_The boy's head tilts downwards, confused about why the man is taking a drama group production so seriously. Probably because of the skull, donated by the late founder of the drama group, as it was his wish in death, after a tragedy filled life, to 'play' the part of Yorick in the famous Shakespeare play. _

_"What is Hamlet feeling at this point? Come on, Alfie Owens! I know you are better than this!"_

_The scene switches, to the night of the production instead of the dress rehearsal. There's actually quite a good turn out- better than expected, at least- for a little known theatre company in the middle of Essex. It's mostly parents- most notable being Craig Owens and his wife, Sophie, cheering on their Alfie- and relatives, but there's a couple of nobodies, dotted around the small audience. _

_"Come on, Stormy!" Craig was shouting, embarrassing his son with his nickname._

_With the rotting skull resting in his palm, Alfie prepares to speak._

_"Alas, poor Yorick," he begins, his bottom lip quivering._

_A scream erupts from the foyer, pulling everyone in the room away from the scene. In the foyer, the director of the play lies dead, blood oozing from his back, and the daughter who'd been playing Ophelia, missing._

_..._

"Rory," Amy's hands grasped her husbands face with caring desperation. "Please tell me you're okay."

"I'm fine," he smiled, pushing himself into a sitting position to look at her. "I've found us somewhere to go."

"Where?" The Doctor's head shot in his direction, as he powered up the TARDIS in preparation.

"A theatre in Essex, about fifteenth of may, 2028."

"What happened in the dream, Rory?" Dean asked, wanting to know that they weren't walking into some kind of zombie apocalypse before they headed off.

"Some teenager- Alfie Owens, I think- was performing Hamlet. The director got angry with him, then it switched to the Yorick scene but it stopped because the director was murdered, and his daughter went missing."

"Sounds like a case." The Doctor was already setting off, too focused on controlling the TARDIS to have paid attention to the familiar name.

...

When the TARDIS finally arrived outside of the small theatre, the clinking of swords could be heard from within. Dean was not too familiar with Shakespeare's work- although, much to contrary belief, he did read but he preferred reading about important things, like how to kill the next son of a bitch he'd have to contend with, or the occasional Dr Sexy M.D. novel on the rare occasion that he had the time- so the sound of metal crashing together sent him running into the theatre, thinking someone was about to get hurt. Rory, still recovering from the exhaustion of his latest vision, was too spaced out to chase after the man, so the rest of the group had been lumbered with the task that would normally be handed to him instead. They'd managed to grab Dean, just before he raced into the theatre to rip the swords from the hands of the actors and fire them into their chests.

The two actors, Alfie and a much shorter boy with dark hair, fenced with gusto, dancing about the stage as they ran through their lines. The unhappy theatre director sat in the third row, clipboard in hand, tutting in disapproval. At the sound of the doors opening, revealing The Doctor and the rest of the group, the actors stopped their scene and turned their heads.

"You can't just stop in the middle of a scene!" the director screamed. "Pay attention!"

"Sorry to disturb your rehearsal, sir." The Doctor smiled, straightening his bow-tie as he signalled for the actors to come off stage. "I'm The Doctor."

"Please tell me this isn't another one of my dad's pranks..." Alfie groaned as he jumped off the stage apathetically. "I've seen your face before..."

"I don-" The Doctor stared at him, trying to figure out if he'd met the boy before.

"Your picture is on my parents' fridge!"

"Wait, _you're _Alfie? Little Alfie Owens? Stormageddon, dark lord of all? Stormie?"

"How do you know my nick-... Your that friend, aren't you? The one that visited when I was a baby, and saved my dad from those robot things. You gave me that nickname!"

"_Cybermen._" he corrected. "And you saved him, really. And you gave that nickname to yourself."

"What are you here for? To see my dad? And who are this lot?"

"To speak to to you, actually. And these are my friends."

...

The group lumbered into the chairs in the audience, all eyes on Alfie. It almost overwhelmed the poor kid, bundling him into his chair as they glared at him desperately. He cowered further into his seat as he found himself unable to look away from the staring eyes.

"So you're playing Hamlet?" The Doctor began, smiling. "I like Shakespeare. Nice man, he is."

"Look if you're trying to get tickets, there's plenty left so they'll be selling them at the door."

"When's your first show?"

"Tonight, so I'd appreciate it if you'd let me get back to my rehearsal..."

"You can't perform tonight, Alfie. I'm sorry."

"I know my acting's not quite up to par, but that's a bit harsh."

"Something or someone will kill your theatre director tonight, if you perform. Do you want that to happen?"

"No, but I can name quite a few people who would be happy to see him dead."

"People don't like him?" Dean inquired, his eyebrow raised with curiosity.

"Yeah. He can be a right di-" Alfie would've continued but he was cut of by Sherlock waving a hand in his face.

"Wait, let me deduce," the tall man grinned, almost unnervingly as he cocked his head round to observe the man, who was standing a good distance away, swigging whiskey from a metal container as he waited, "Receding hairline and a few grey hairs. I'd place him at about forty five years old, give or take a few years... More likely to give. No wedding ring, but you can see the markings of a ring from here on his ring finger. He's recently divorced, and he's not taking it well, judging by the couple of extra pounds he's carrying. There's an accidental smudge of make up on his wrist- blusher and foundation. He must live with a woman or a girl, and the make up must have been spilled on a surface. It's a cheap brand, judging by the colour and coverage, probably bought from one of those chemist shops, and women are more careful with their things, so I'd guess that it's a teenage girl, probably Alfie's age- you're seventeen, yes? Most likely his daughter... I sure hope it's his daughter, anyway, and not his lover."

"How is that possible?" Alfie stuttered, shaking his head in amazement. "He's forty six, got divorced two months ago, and he's got a seventeen year old daughter."

"That's the first time I've ever seen one of your deductions," Dean noted, smiling. "Not bad."

"Anyway, I'm performing tonight, Doctor." Alfie stated. "The show's only going on for this week, and we already had to cancel last month's performance due to lack of ticket sales. You have no idea what's going to happen tonight. There's no way of predicting the future."

"In fact, there is Alife. My friend here," he pointed to Rory. "Is psychic."

"I knew you'd be a nut-job from the stories dad told me about you. All that psychic stuff isn't real."

"Then how did we find out you were here?" The Doctor asked Alfie, desperate to prove he telling the truth. "I know it sounds crazy, but-"

"Okay, I'll take your word for it." he still sounded sceptical. "If creepy alien robot things can exist, then psychics aren't _too_ far fetched... I'm still performing tonight. There's no understudy, and I want the show to go ahead."

"Whatever it is that could kill someone tonight, we assume, is theatre based. As long as the show doesn't go on, then nobody gets hurt." Rory stated calmly.

"Look kid, if you don't fake an illness or a fall down the stairs," Dean began, his voice growling with an unusual authority over the younger man. "Then I'll make it my duty to make you sick, or throw you down the stairs myself."

"Okay, okay..." Alfie laughed at the ridiculousness of the whole situation. "No need to get violent there, pal."

"Listen to me, you son of a bitch! Hamlet's a pretty big role and... you've been acting how long?"

"A couple of months."

"Come on, faking a sickie will be a much better suited acting challenge for you!"

"You don't know what the theatre director can be like!" Alfie was grasping on an excuse not to give in. "My head could be falling off, and he'd still force me to go on stage!"

"Your father will give in," The Doctor suggested, smiling at the thought of good old Craig Owens. "He's gullible like that. Good old Mr Gullible, that man is."

"Alright, but only because it's you. If it had been anyone else, I'd have thought they were mad."

"There's many things you don't know about me, but one thing you should know is that I am most definitely _mad, _Alfie."


	15. Skull

**There will be nice little phone conversation between Sam and Rory coming up soon, which will put some of the situation into context, so look out for that:) Also, a little bit of weechesters/teenchesters and little Sherlock and Mycroft flashbacks too:) **

* * *

They'd been in the theatre for an hour, before they decided they'd outstayed their welcome, as of course, most of the people in the theatre were off the belief that the show was going ahead. Alfie had headed off ten minutes earlier, in order to prepare for his little 'acting challenge'. Much to the group's dismay, the sky had decided that it would be a good time to piss down from the clouds, raining it's drops of cloud pee down onto the unhappy huddle of people.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean hissed, pulling the hood of his sweater over his head.

"Almost two decades ahead, and the weather still refuses to cooperate with us!" John exclaimed, thrusting his hands into his pockets.

"Come on, guys! It's not that bad!" The Doctor stretched his arms out wide and let the rain fall over his face for a second. "Anyway, we need to see how Alfie's getting on, but it would look a little odd if all of us appeared at his house, asking to come in..."

"We should do some research on the theatre. Find out a little bit more." Sherlock suggested, fixing the collar of his jacket. "I'll go. Rory and John, come with me."

"And Dean and Amy, you two are with me."

...

Thankfully, the Owens family hadn't moved since The Doctor's last visit, still living in the same big house that The Doctor remembered well. They'd painted the door a dark blue, which The Doctor thought was nice, and they'd renovated the house a bit, but it still looked like the same old place. The Doctor pressed the buzzer, running a hand through his soaked hair, and waited.

"Look we don't want to buy your 'free' loft insulat-..." Craig Owens'- still the same man, except for the grey hair and dress sense- head peered around the dark blue door. "Doctor..."

"Craig!" The Doctor went to hug his old friend, then realised it was a bad idea because he was soaking wet. "You're getting old, my friend!"

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm... sorry. I heard Alfie was performing in Hamlet tonight and I thought I'd drop in and see the show..."

"The show doesn't start for a while, and we don't have anywhere to stay, and now it's raining..." Amy took over. "And I'm sorry, let me introduce myself. We're The Doctor's friends. I'm Amy, and he's Dean."

"Oh god, where are my manners? Come in..." Craig opened the door further.

"So how's Alfie? Getting prepared for his big show I presume!" The Doctor smiled, obviously mentally putting his acting hat on.

"Big show might not be going ahead, I'm afraid."

"Oh no," they tried their best to look concerned. "Do you mind if I ask, why?"

"Alfie came home early from his rehearsal. He was meant to be staying there until the show ended, but he came home complaining of a headache. He thinks it might be a migraine, so I doubt he'll be performing."

"No understudy then?" Dean grunted, leaning on the arm of the couch in Craig's living room.

"Nope. It's a pretty small theatre group. Alfie's only started taking part so he'd have something on his university applications."

"What's he planning to study?" The Doctor was just making small talk now.

"Oh I don't know. Something sciencey..."

...

"Do we even know what we're looking for?" Rory turned to face Sherlock and John as he saw people entering the theatre, still clueless to the fact that the show wouldn't be going ahead.

"Dean said to sift around for history of the theatre," John noted. "You'd think they'd have kicked all the people out of here, seeing as the show's not happening."

"We should start in the theatre director's office. I just saw him in the crowd over there, so the room will be empty." Sherlock stated, straightening the collar of his coat.

They sneaked past the crowd, who were burrowing into their chairs with boredom, waiting for the show to 'start'. Sherlock led the way, striding along the aisles towards the backstage area. John and Rory followed behind, eyes scoping for anything that could be of importance.

The theatre director's office, to put it nicely, was a pig sty. Sheets of paper looked as if they'd been thrown across the room in a spiteful rage, and the man's desk was engulfed in unopened envelopes, pages of scripts and bent paper clips. At the back of the room was a pile of cardboard boxes, overflowing with an unmanageable mess of props and costumes. The prop at the top of the box stood out from the dull plastic fencing swords and the shiny tearing material of handmade costumes. The head slung back against the wall, grinning over at them.

"Alas poor Yorick," Rory muffled, a tone of sarcasm seeping into his voice as he lifted the skull from the bed of props. "I knew him."

"It's real." Sherlock noted, having pried the skull from Rory's hands, started to examine the back of the head. "Theatre artifact, I presume."

"Who would leave part of their corpse to a theatre?" John took a step back from his taller friend, his nose wrinkling at the sight of the remains.

"Maybe he is of significance to the case? Can either of you recall Sam and Dean discussing 'salt and burn' cases when they were both on the TARDIS?"

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"They told us that it's how to get rid of ghosts- by burning their remains."

"So you think Yorick here is responsible for whatever would've killed..." Rory looked around the room for the man's name. "Mr Graham, then?"

"It's the most likely conclusion, yes."

"The show isn't going ahead tonight. As long as nobody is in the theatre, nobody will be killed. The crowd will soon latch on to the fact there's no actors on stage and leave, and this skull won't make its debut... We can wait until tomorrow to burn this, surely?"

"I hate to admit, but it would be nice to wait, and have Dean's assistance with our first 'salt and burn'," the detective stared at the floor as he admitted his apprehension. "And the rest of this man's skeleton might still be in a coffin somewhere. It's only fair to identify him and make sure he's responsible first."

Despite Sherlock's bravado, the nerves seeped through his skin, clinging onto the other two men. The thought of burning a possibly innocent man's bones sent chills through even Sherlock, and the idea of fire, bellowing loudly from a coffin, ridding the earth of any trace of a single man, sat in the back of Rory's mind, taunting him in a desperation to be noticed. The images of The Doctor's body burning- both the time when it was actually the teselecta that had been shot, and the more recent scene from his dream- refused to escape his thoughts, and it was for that reason that he'd be thankful that the others had decided Dean was the only man for the job.

The trio had left the theatre to wait on the other three, residing at a coffee shop down the road to get something to eat. Clutching his fingers round his mug, Rory stared out of the window as the seemingly bemused theatre-goers continued to pile into the building in their numbers. Sherlock tilted his head for a second and laughed half-heartedly. The waitress brought over their meals, smiling and ready to make some conversation.

"Going to see the show tonight?" she smiled. "My friend Joanna is playing Ophelia."

"I thought it was cancelled?" Rory raised his eyebrow in confusion.

"We all thought so too, because my other friend Alfie isn't well-"

"Who's playing Hamlet? We spoke to him earlier and he said there was no understudy?" John said through a mouthful of bacon.

"Turns out, one of the boys in the lighting team performed Hamlet for his drama exam recently, and knows the part of by heart."

...

"So... um... long time no see, Doctor." Craig handed him a cup of tea and placed a plate of biscuits on the table in front of him.

"Oh yes, I know." The Doctor took a drink, almost spilling it down himself in clumsiness. "I see you've painted your door. Blue. I like it."

"Doctor, why are you here?"

"I told you. I came to see the show."

"You've come to investigate something. You've got your investigating face on."

"What face? This is just my face. My 'I'm The Doctor' face."

"It's just his face, Craig." Amy joined in.

"Just a face." Dean smiled, although the lie had already diminished just words into The Doctor's babbling.


	16. Life

**I actually spent ages rewriting the whole 'life is a mess' bit of this part, and it still doesn't seem quite right so I'm sorry about that, but I hope you enjoy this chapter and thank you from the bottom of my heart for even reading one word of this. **

* * *

Rory, Sherlock and John burst from their chairs, screaming out a promise to pay for their food later as they darted out of the front door. Rory had ran so fast that he'd nearly twisted his ankle, and by the time they'd reached the street, not one of the trio could properly regain their breath.

Late. Seconds too late. Mr Graham, the theatre director, was dead. His daughter- who just so happened to be the friend of the waitress, Joanna- was missing. It hadn't mattered that Alfie had steered clear of the theatre. Whatever it was attacked anyway. Rory cursed under his breath, quivering away at the metallic smell of blood. Sherlock- used to blood and dead bodies- stood, apathetic to the sort of things other people would vomit over. The show had went ahead, and as it seemed, so did the murder.

"Shit!" John snapped, "Call the others. Tell them what's happened."

"We're minutes away from Alfie's house. The Doctor gave us the address." Rory held up a sheet of paper. "We'll get Dean to salt and burn this guy's skull, then we can go."

...

"Alfie, what are you doing up?" Craig turned his head round to the stairs where his son was standing, looking as if he was just about to leave the house. "Even if you're feeling better the show will be almost done."

"My friend, Katherine just called. You know, the one who works at Cafe 314 down from the theatre?" Alfie did his best to sound tired, keeping up his act. "They found someone else to do the show. Something's happened."

"What exactly happened, Alfie?" The Doctor glared at him, half expecting the answer the boy was about to give him.

"Mr Graham's dead, and Joanna's missing."

"Come here, Stormie..." Craig called him over to sit on the couch beside him.

"You only call me that when you're trying to talk me out of something, or when you feel sorry for me! I'm going out to look for her!"

"If something's going on with their family, I don't want you getting involv-"

"She's my girlfriend, dad! I need to make sure she's alright."

"Craig's right, Alfie." Dean noted, not particularly in the mood for peeling the teenager's dead body off the floor. "We've got to go, Doctor. _Now..."_

"You don't know who she is! You don't know what she looks..." Alfie gave up, his breath disappearing as he glared desperately at The Doctor. "Please find her."

"Amy, you stick to this area. Don't go too far from this house. We'll call the other three and they can look near the theatre. The Doctor and I will search everywhere in between," Dean took over, authority seeping through the tone of his voice. "Alfie and Craig, call Joanna's mobile, or anyone that might have seen her, and stick by the phone in case anyone calls with news. Alfie, have you got a picture of Joanna anywhere?"

"I've got a couple..." He rushed over to a drawer, peeling open the cardboard case of photos viciously. "Just printed a couple of days ago. All of them have Joanna in them somewhere..."

"We'll bring her back, Storm." The Doctor's eyes met his. "Trust me."

...

Amy strode along the path, torch clutched in her palm. In her other hand, she held a photo of the girl she was searching for. The picture was from what appeared to be a rehearsal at the theatre. In the photo Alfie had his arm around the girl, brushing back her thick curly blond hair and kissing her cheek. She smiled, being reminded of when her and Rory were that young, careless and naive.

"Joanna?" she called out.

_Silence. _Amy's heart pounded in her chest, fearing for the stranger. Every corner she turned she crossed her fingers, desperately hoping that she wouldn't find the girl in a bloody heap, screaming and wailing, or worse, still and silent.

...

Dean and The Doctor walked quickly around the winding streets of London. Being late at night, and not far enough into the year for the sun to stick around for a couple of extra hours each evening, the sky was a deep blue, tainted only by the moon and a swarm of stars. Dean exhaled deeply, cursing at how cold it was for May- he put it down to some ice storm or whatever that was going to happen in the future and moved along, scoping down the street, his eyes switching between the photo of Joanna and the road ahead of him.

"What is this we're dealing with, Dean?" The Doctor asked. "It doesn't seem like something I've had to contend with before."

"Ghost possession, I think." Dean sighed flicking his torch to look both ways. "Must be a pretty angry spirit though. I doubt we'll find her anywhere near here. She won't have got as far as this from the theatre. Do the other three have a picture of Joanna?"

"Sent them one just as we left Craig's."

"Good. They're probably going to find her. We don't even need to bother trying to look for her here."

"So... Any idea how Sam's been doing?" The Doctor changed the subject as they headed in the direction of the theatre, hoping to have more luck within a closer radius to the crime scene.

"Good apparently." Dean laughed half-heartedly. "Better than I thought he'd be."

"What do you mean by that?"

"We've been through some tough shit, Doctor. I know I can't complain, seeing as you've been through nine hundred years of it, but I've seen Sam choose the wrong path countless times. I... I didn't think I could trust him on his own, especially with the ESPN in his head or whatever. For years it's been him making the big mistakes, and me having to stiffen my upper lip and deal with it, no matter how I'm feeling about it. I just don't want to have to clear up a mess."

"Life's a mess, Dean, but... it's life." The Doctor smiled, stopping in his tracks for a second. "If it was a matter of choice, wouldn't you much rather be alive than the alternative?"

"Would you?" Dean laughed half-heartedly, gasping out with relief of a weight off of his shoulders.

"I don't live for me." the Time Lord sounded exhausted. "I never grow tired of being proven wrong, Dean. I see worlds about to tumble into oblivion, salvaged in the last seconds by... impossibly amazing people."


	17. Found

Dean wandered a couple of steps ahead of The Doctor, feeling himself slip into a little bit of familiarity. In a strange way, walking alongside The Doctor made him feel like he was back in America present day on a simple 'salt and burn' case. The Doctor had proven to be an interesting companion, and it didn't hurt that he didn't complain like Sam often did, or complicate things like Cas. He was just there, completely on the same page, entirely focused on the task at hand.

"There's shops just ahead," The Doctor noted, pointing towards the buildings ahead of him, which included the little 'vintage' cafe that Rory, John and Sherlock had visited. "We could ask if anyone has seen her?"

"Start with the cafe." Dean smiled at the thought of food.

"We're not stopping to eat, Dean."

"But I'm-"

"We're busy."

"Fine, we'll stuff our faces _after_ we gank Casper the not so friendly ghost, then."

They bundled into the cafe, ignoring the 'we're closed' sign on the door, intending just to ask the staff if they'd seen her and be on their way.

"Can't you read?" Dean's eyes met with a young girl's. "We're closed!"

"Sorry to bother you..." The Doctor read the girl's name badge. "Kim."

"In case you can't see, I'm _busy._" the girl walked over to the table where another girl, her face covered with her thick blonde hair, was sitting. "You okay, Jo?"

"Stop fussing," the girl laughed half heartedly. "I'm _fine._"

"Joanna, you just witnessed your dad getting ripped apart-"

"And I'm ok. A little upset, but honestly what's the point in being a sobbing, inconsolable mess?"

"Wait Joanna?" Dean, who had just about turned on his heels to leave stopped in his tracks. "As in Joanna Graham."

"Depends who's asking," she smiled shakily. "How'd you know my name?"

"Alfie." The Doctor stated. "He's worried about you."

"I was just about to call him-"

"We need to speak to you, Joanna."

"Fine," she laughed, seemingly in good spirits. "Walk me to Alfie's."

"You're just going to follow two guys you've never met before?" Kim queried.

"This guy is on Alfie's fridge. He's not a stranger." She pointed to The Doctor. "You're that doctor aren't you? Craig's old friend?"

"I'm The Doctor." he confirmed. "And this is Dean. Dean Winchester."

...

Having called Rory, Sherlock and John to find Amy, then retrieve the Yorick skull from the theatre, Dean and Joanna walked a couple of steps ahead of The Doctor, talking about what had happened in the theatre foyer earlier that night.

"Did you happen to smell rotten eggs? As in sulphur?" Dean asked, unsure whether people would know about anything supernatural in this time period. "Any black smoke?"

"As in demons?" Joanna laughed. "Nope. Only ever seen one of those things. I was only a kid- about four or something."

"What did you witness, Joanna?"

"It's as if I was there, but... I wasn't. I could see what was going on, and it felt like my body was doing it but... It wasn't me."

"Seen any black liquid?"

"Was oozing from my ear. I was pretty freaked and ran down to that little coffee shop to calm myself down."

...

Despite Craig's numerous whines of 'Alfie' and 'Stormie' and all of the other variations, and Sophie's constant pleas to try and get him to stop pacing and looking out of the window, Alfie was a nervous wreck. He snivelled anxiously as he peeked through the curtains for about the millionth time, only getting a glimpse of Amy's red hair as she turned to search for Joanna in the other direction. He gave up and slumped down beside his mum and reached for a hand to hold.

"The Doctor will bring her back, honey." Sophie smiled, squeezing his hand comfortingly. "I get it, you're scared... But working yourself up into a tizzy isn't going to solve anything."

"But what if he brings her back, limp and lifeless and-" he stopped for a moment and whimpered, regressing back into feeling like a five year old. "_D__ead?_"

By some turn of fate, Craig could year the door handle turning and most importantly, Joanna's voice. Alfie's face lit up as he jolted from the sofa, rushing towards the front door like a toddler on Christmas morning. Joanna punched him in the arm playfully, before shoving her arms round his neck for a hug. Dean and The Doctor followed, not close behind, grins spreading across their faces.

"You-" Joanna prodded Alfie in the chest. "Are such a worrier!"

"You might have been dead!" Alfie laughed, his apprehension still apparent in his nervous chuckle.

"Look at me. I'm alive. Anyway, _someone _owes me an apology."

"For what? What did I do?"

"You had me worried when I heard you'd pulled out of the show. I know you, Alf. You don't miss _anything. _I remember you showed up at school one day and you were like a zombie, and you still stayed the whole day. I thought something was seriously wrong." She proceeded to prod him in the chest again. "And now it appears you're fine."

"Oh so you're allowed to worry about me then? The Doctor-" Alfie was cut off by the Time Lord.

"We thought the ghost wouldn't attack if nobody in was the theatre," he spoke apologetically. "But the show went ahead without Alfie. The ghost still killed your dad."

"Wait, _ghost__?_" Craig squealed. "As in...-"

"Yes as in...-" Dean waved his arms around and said 'ooh' sarcastically.

"Alright. Okay. Ghosts _and _aliens are real. _Brilliant._"

"Doctor, you stay here if it's okay with this lot and make sure Joanna's alright. I'm off to burn some bones!" the Winchester removed the gun from his pocket and waved it in the air playfully.


	18. Wrong

"I forgot to ask," The Doctor looked at Craig. "Is Alfie an only child?"

"He... ha-... had a younger sister." Craig stumbled.

"Where is she?"

"She... She went missing days after her eighth birthday. We haven't seen her since."

...

Dean, after meeting back up with Rory, Sherlock, John and Amy, headed back over to the theatre by himself to figure out whose bones he would have to burn to get rid of the ghost. The other four weren't particularly in the mood for committing a possible criminal offence at that moment in time, so headed back to find The Doctor and go back to the TARDIS.

The theatre was empty now, and seemed much larger than it had done when it was filled to the brim with people. Dean cursed the others for leaving him to burn the bones himself. Normally, he could dunk the research work on Sam, but now that his brother was seventeen years or so back in time and god knows where in Britain, he couldn't exactly call him up and ask him to come and help. The 'crime scene' was taped off, but it seemed that the police's general response to the case was apathy, seeing as they were absent, just an hour or so after the man had been killed.

Dean wandered through to the dead man's office where the props were held. The skull slung back on the bed of costumes, jeering truculently in Dean's direction. He reached for it and stared at it for a second, thinking about how the man must have looked when he had flesh.

"Let's get you burned, you creepy son of a bitch!" he laughed, placing it onto the desk behind him while he searched the room for clues to who the man could be. "Let's see..."

He scoped the entire room, sifting through piles of paperwork and food wrappers until he found _something _that could've been help to him. He'd taken to looking through a couple of the newspapers that were piled up beside the cardboard boxes of props and costumes due to not being able to find any clues anywhere else.

"Who are you?" Dean jokingly asked the skull, which watched him with a taunting grin.

About three newspapers later, he found what he was looking for. The local paper had published an article about the production of Hamlet about a week back, and thankfully, it mentioned the man who was 'playing' Yorick. Not finding any information about where the man was buried or anything, he spun round on the chair and tapped the man's name- William Smith- into the computer. Taking a moment to adjust to the futuristic operating system, he found more information about who he was.

...

The other five practically fell into the TARDIS, tired from spending the whole day wandering about an unfamiliar version of Essex. Even The Doctor, who never showed an ounce of lethargy, seemingly in a constant bubble of energy, wanted to flop down on the floor and rest the back of his head against the control panel. Amy slid down to sit beside him, resting her head on The Doctor's shoulder.

"It's not like you to be tired," she laughed half-heartedly, poking his shoulder playfully.

"Long day, Amy," he smiled.

"Don't Time Lords sleep less than human beings?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow, analysing the man.

"I'm still allowed to be tired, Sherlock." The Doctor smiled, pushed himself up from the ground and wandered about the TARDIS control panel trying to be like his usual self. "I'm fine."

...

Dean dropped the match down onto the pile of bones, watching as the flames engulfed the man's remains. There was something simple about the task, forcing him to reminisce the 'good old days' where 'hunting' didn't necessarily translate to 'the end of the world'. He thought of Sam, as if he was feeling his presence standing behind his shoulder, ready to make a sarcastic joke about the case, or complain about whatever was filling them with angst at that moment in time. The simplicity lodged itself in his heart as he walked off, smiling at his thoughts.

...

Rory's eyes fixated on The Doctor, whose desperate attempts to come across as his usual, flailing, clumsy and excitable self were becoming slightly more weak and lethargic as time ticked onwards. Amy didn't seem too bothered, as-in her mind- if everyone else was tired, why couldn't The Doctor be? Rory was a little less apathetic. Maybe it was the fact he'd been seeing flashes of the burning of The Doctor's body every time the man was mentioned, but he couldn't quench the overwhelming anxiety about the man's health bubbling in his chest.

"Doctor?" Rory's voice quavered. "Can I speak to you for a second?"

"Of course, Rory," even his voice lacked the usual bounce.

They wandered through to the drawing room in another part of the TARDIS. The Doctor's posture relaxed as he leant against the arm of one of the chairs, sighing deeply.

"What's wrong with you?" Rory demanded. "And don't lie."

"I..." The Doctor stared down at the floor. "I don't know."

"Doctor."

"You've seen me die, Rory. We might as well start thinking about how that's going to occur."

"Doctor..."

"I was meant to die in Utah. I _cheated _death. I'm living on borrowed time."

"You didn't answer my question." Rory stated simply. "What's wrong with you?"

"I'm going to die, Rory. People want me dead."

"WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU?" he snapped, desperate for a non-cryptic answer.

"I may be dying." he glared at him desperately. "When we were in Apulapucia... The man we were heading to see..."

"I remember, yeah."

"He doesn't exist. The mythical space legends don't exist. Someone led us there for a reason."

"But why-"

"I told you. People want me dead."

"So something made up all those myths to lead you to Apulapucia to infect you with something?" The Doctor nodded in response. "But who?"

"Gallifreyans. As far as I can tell, they want to take over the Earth and create a new race of Time Lords. The disappearances of children... they've all been around eight years old when they were taken."

"And that's relevant because..."

"Children of Gallifrey are taken from their families at the age of eight to enter the academy," the words roll off the tongue as if he's recited them a million times.

"But you can't just create a Time Lord."

"You and Amy did."

"But that's one...-"

"Of course it's different. The Gallifreyans will have assigned someone to take them away and teach them the ways of a Time Lord. Using a Stellar Manipulator, they can cause a supernova. The energy, along with exposure to the time vortex will force the humans to adapt and evolve through the generations. It's a slow process, but it could be the last chance for the legacy of The Time Lords to live on."

"But who is _someone_?"

"I have a theory about that too." The Doctor sunk back into the chair. "The Silence are a religious order, right? They followed a specific prophecy. Kovarian and The Silence wanted to destroy me. It failed, so they are trying again. I need to be dead in order for the plans to go ahead, I'm sure. I'm the only one who knows how to stop it, and they believe I'd not go to rest until I did."

"So what's wrong with you?"

"I can't diagnose myself, exactly. A lot of illnesses that are spread throughout two-hearted species are similar, and even the TARDIS finds it hard to distinguish between them. They'll be slow acting, though. Most of them take weeks, months and occasionally even years to fester properly, especially with Gallifreyan physiology."

"We should tell the oth-"

"NO!" The Doctor bellowed, suddenly filled with an unusual anger. "Please, Rory. I have to die. I'm meant to die. I'm meant to _burn_."


	19. Weight

**_I've been re-watching a couple of Nine and Ten's episodes, and I'm thinking that there may be a special little couple of chapters where Eleven isn't the only Doctor on the TARDIS. I always liked the idea of the multi-doctor episodes of classic Who, and the Time Crash mini-episode thing was brilliant too so obviously it would be quite an interesting thing to write about. And also, there's a couple of other people from Doctor Who(and possibly Supernatural) who I'd like appear at some point. _**

**_Also, it'll be more of a split narrative from now on, switching between the TARDIS and Sam back in London, but Sam shall be back in the TARDIS at some point._**

**_If you're reading this on tumblr, it's on a read more now by the way:) _**

* * *

While The Doctor bounced back through to the control room as if nothing had been wrong, Rory remained in the other room, his bottom lip quivering with overwhelming anxiety. The weight of the knowledge of The Doctor's affliction had only been resting on his shoulders for a few seconds, but already the load was proving too heavy for him to handle on his own. He desperately wanted to spill his feelings to Amy, but he knew fine well that it would be against The Doctor's wishes. Amy- despite her close friendship with the old man-would refuse to respect the fact that while there was a cure for whatever was ailing him, not resting until he was perfectly alive and perfectly well.

He'd asked the questions to which the answers made him feel stupid- 'why can't you just regenerate?', 'why don't you just treat yourself for it?', 'what about us?', 'do you really want to die?'- before giving up, accepting The Doctor's face. He couldn't _just regenerate_- multiple illnesses could hinder the ability. The ways of stopping the illness were complicated, and he'd rather focus on saving others, as opposed to himself. He'd teach at least one of them how to steer the TARDIS back home, should they find themselves stuck on another planet. And he didn't exactly _want_ to die- but if it meant that he could save the planet he seemed to favour instead of 'being selfish' and spending his time trying to help himself.

Rory's mind rambled, taunting his every conscious thought. He barely noticed he was close to bursting into tears until he felt his whole body shaking, as he became a shivering sobbing mess. He winced desperately as the familiar shooting pain took over his head, trying to will him into giving in to the premonition. At first, he resisted it, letting the pain spread down to the tip of his nose. His body was practically _convulsing _now, pushing him closer and closer into showing him the dream. The Doctor's dead body engulfed in flames wasn't something he could exactly handle at that moment in time, adding to the load on his shoulders.

"Rory?" Dean, who must have just burst back into the TARDIS after burning the bones of the man. "Shit."

"M'fine," he rest his head in his hands. "Just a vision. Hurt a bit more than usual."

...

"Doctor!" Amy smiled, jumping over to where The Doctor was standing. "You alright?"

"I'm fine!" he grinned back, flicking one of the switches of the TARDIS. "Old friends... Made me a little weepy."

"Oh come here, you big softie!" she attack-hugged him, shoving her arms around his chest comfortingly.

"Permission to-" he looked around for Rory, but when he was nowhere to be seen he hugged back, searching for even an ounce of comfort in the embrace.

"Where's Rory?" Amy pulled away from the hug, her hands still resting on her friend's shoulders.

"He's got a bit of a headache," Dean re-entered the room. "A vision, I think."

Amy pushed past Dean, heading to make sure her husband was okay. Dean leaned against the TARDIS control panel.

"So who was the man?"

"Some guy who founded the theatre or something. He absolutely hated his dad- must have been avenging him in death."

...

Amy wandered through to the drawing room where Rory sat on a sofa, looking uncomfortable as his thoughts danced around his head, chanting ululations of negativity repeatedly. He looked up as he heard his wife wandering into the room, before burying his head even further into his hands as a pang of guilt shot up from his stomach, making him feel nauseous with anxiety.

"Hey," she whispered. "You alright honey?"

"Uh... Yeah..." he mumbled, not once looking up as Amy sat down beside him.

"Hey, come on. You're scaring me." she tried to get him to look her in the eyes as they spoke, tugging on his arm. "Rory, please just... What's wrong?"

"Leave me alone." he muttered, shivering with apprehension.

"Ror-"

"I said leave me alone," he groaned sternly as she rushed out of the room, respecting her husband's wishes.

...

"Amy, is everything okay?" John asked as she walked over, looking slightly lost after the conversation with Rory. "Rory's alright, yes?"

"He um..." she began.

"Told you to go away?" Sherlock piped in. "He's not alright, I assume?"

"Sherlock!" John scolded him. "Not now."

"Not alright?" Amy huffed. "He's sitting in there _sobbing._ He won't even tell me what's wrong."

The guilt hit the doctor in his chest, searing through him like the affliction spreading through his system. Rory, despite being occasionally awkward and babbling, had always done well with keeping himself together, and for some strange reason he'd wrongly assumed that Rory would've been able to handle the news. Rory was in tears because of _him. _He looked back over at Amy, watching as John tried to reassure her into giving Rory a couple of minutes to let of steam and felt his hearts drop. The guilt thickened. He'd not just ruined his companions' lives. He'd _killed _people. Heck, he wiped out his own entire race. So many people had died because of _him. _He knew he needed to go. He knew he needed to spend his every breath trying to stop the world from ending- to stop the Gallifreyans from ripping apart the Earth with apathy, shaping it to fit the new and possibly not so improved race of Time Lords.

Rory, looking limp and defeated, had finally unearthed from the drawing room. He mouthed something resembling a sorry, and mentioned that it was just something to do with his visions. He slumped down onto the steps leading through to the TARDIS bedrooms and sighed as Dean asked about food. At least something was normal.


	20. Criminal

Rory was fighting just to keep his tears at bay. Amy flung her arms around him, stroking the back of his hair gently as he buried his head further into her shoulder. So many times, he'd been the one comforting Amy, but at this moment in time the tables had turned. It was like a switch in Rory's brain had flickered on, removing the numb, dull feeling that made him able to keep his cool. He felt as if the psychic brainwaves were flitting around his head, taunting him desperately with their constant reminders of The Doctor's future.

He could feel the words in his throat as if they were about to spill out of his mouth at any moment. He was desperate to confide in someone or at least be able to be a _bit _more open about the whole situation. The only things stopping him from revealing the truth was The Doctor's words and the thought of how Amy would feel knowing The Doctor was living on borrowed time. His head inched further into Amy's chest as the image filled his mind and sighed, wondering about who he might be able to tell.

He didn't think he could tell Dean. He had this sort of determination that sat in his heart and Rory wasn't sure that he could trust the man to not pester The Doctor about curing himself instead of deciding he needed to 'sacrifice' himself. He considered telling John, but from the way the man watched Sherlock cautiously, he could tell that he'd never let someone die when they had a chance to live. Of course there was always Sherlock, but Rory knew that he wasn't the kind of man who wanted to listen to a teary-eyed loser sob about his feelings.

The only solution left was to call Sam. He wasn't entirely sure about telling him the whole story, but he knew that he was more likely to understand than the others. He excused himself from the control room and headed through to one of the bedrooms and pulled out his phone. The Doctor had made sure that any phone within a certain radius of the TARDIS was able to pick up signals from other time zones and planets so he dialled the number and waited for him to pick up.

"Hello?" Sam answered. "Rory, is everything okay?"

"Um..." Rory mumbled, suddenly doubting his confidence again.

"Nobody's hurt?" the other man's voice hitched with apprehension, worried that his brother was dead(_again_...) or something.

"Everyone's fine."

"Look, I'm driving at the moment," Sam explained. "Make this quick."

"T-the..." Rory stopped to swallow the thick ball of dread that filled his throat. "When I see The Doctor's death, it's beginning to feel much more real, and much more likely to actually happen. It's as if... our worst nightmare is slowly but surely coming true."

"And let me guess, you're scared that everything else will happen too? Sorry, I've been spending too much time in Baker Street. The deductions just keep rolling off my tongue."

"Sorry for bothering you."

"Hey, it's no big deal. Tell Sherlock that Moriarty's being kept under control for the moment."

...

Sam chucked his phone onto the passenger seat and continued to drive back from his last case. He'd followed Sherlock's advice and befriended Lestrade, and thanks to The Doctor's psychic paper he'd managed to get through the legal side of things. He'd even managed to gain the trust of Mycroft, Sherlock's older brother, which led him into being involved in more pressing cases. After saving the two of them from the ghost of a homicidal serial killer, the friendship had been further solidified, and Sam's identity as a hunter was known.

The Moriarty case hadn't progressed much further. They'd managed to pull together a couple of seemingly conclusive links, but the consulting criminal had snaked his way out of being caught. Way too clever to be snatched and shoved into a prison cell, Moriarty had managed to go undetected for weeks now. Somehow the bafflement of Scotland Yard had broke the system, slipping between Scotland Yard's not so chubby fingers. Sam could still see the man's gaping eyes, and the blood oozing out from the back of his head whenever he thought of the man.

"We're being too careful," Sam stated suddenly, sinking back into what was usually Sherlock's chair.

"Well we're not just going to walk straight into his knife are we, Winchester?" Mycroft snubbed with a smirk. "Jim Moriarty is a dangerous man. We can't just walk straight towards him."

"Mycroft's right." Lestrade shrugged, taking a sip of his tea. "We'd be slaughtered. I don't know about you, but that's not really my division."

"What would Sherlock do?" once the words flew out of his mouth, Sam knew he'd struck a raw nerve with both men.

"Text him. Come face to face with the master criminal himself." Mycroft laughed half-heartedly. "My brother is no hero, Sam. Don't make him out to be one."

"Would it work?"

The silence diffused through the room as their eyes shifted. The doubt lingered behind Lestrade's glare, knowing that there was a good chance they'd probably manage to reign the savage into his prison cell, but scared that a sacred life would be lost in the process. Mycroft's stare was just as piercing. Sam knew the answer. And that was all he needed.

"Did Sherlock leave his phone?" Sam's voice was stern, letting the others know he wasn't going to change his mind. "Found it."

After flicking through the text history quickly, Sam tapped in the words:

_St Barts roof in an hour. -SH_

_..._

There it is. The click-clack of Moriarty's shoes from Sam's dream. It rung in his ear, not unlike having the devil whispering into his ear, making him wince and want to cower away in the corner. Yet he still stood up tall, not at all fazed by the tall building or the man from his nightmares standing there in the flesh. The smaller man grinned.

"Well hello there, Sherlock," he smiled sarcastically, his head slung back as he sat on the edge of the wall. "Have you done something with your hair?"

"Jim," Sam walked a few steps closer.

"I've been a bad boy, haven't I?"

"Well that might be the understatement of the century."

"Hello Sam_,__" _it's like the devil's voice is pulsing through his eardrum again, sending him straight back to when the leviathans were wandering the earth. "I've seen you wandering about with your new buddies... friends... amigos... Quite the dynamic trio if you ask me."


	21. Confrontation

"You've seen me die, haven't you?"and for a second, there was a lingering vulnerability in Jim Moriarty's cold glare.

Sam nodded, his stare not once swaying away from the other man. Moriarty stood up, ran his hand through his hair and shrugged playfully.

"A bullet..." he reached into his pocket, slowly pulling a gun out. "Straight through here."

Sam winced as Moriarty's mouth gaped open wide, the gun resting it's aim at the back of the man's mouth. He was half convinced that he'd been living a lie for the past two years or so, that he was still in the cage letting the savage beast tear apart at his skin and burn gaping holes in his mind. But it was just Moriarty, equally as savage and equally as evil, still trying to mess with his head.

"You want to know about that day, don't you?" Moriarty's smile filled his face. "Why you keep seeing it on repeat?"

"And why would I ask you?" Sam scoffed.

"I've been watching you," he continued. "Lestrade too. Well when I say _I, _I mean people who work for me. By the looks of it, the BBC will be producing That's So Sam and Lestrade any time soon."

"You've had the premonitions too, Jim."

"True. But I don't care for the people in them. In fact, I'd rather ensure a few of them will be dead."

"Why are you doing this?" Sam asked calmly. "What is it all for?"

"Power?" he shrugged, tapping his feet as he paced. "Maybe I'm just insane."

Minutes later, and Sam's dangling off the roof, threatening to fall backwards down onto the pavement...

...

"Sam's in trouble," Rory noted, wincing as the pain from his latest vision shot through his head. "St Bart's roof."

"Rory, is he dead?" Dean's head turned in Rory's direction, looking slightly worried.

"I... don't think so. He's hurt... Moriarty was there."

"Shit, okay... Doc, get the TARDIS moving ASAP. Sherlock and John, you stay here. Can't risk you two getting caught. If Sammy's badly hurt we'll bring him to you John. Rory, you come with me. Amy you go and get the police and tell them there's been a sighting of Moriarty."

...

Lestrade shot into action, startled by his own premonition. He darted up the stairs of the hospital to get to the roof. His heart sank as he noticed that Moriarty was gone and it was almost as if the lonely handcuffs in his pocket sighed, desperate for a new companion. His eyes turned to Sam, who lay-his body limp and still- in the middle of the ground. Lestrade cursed under his breath, examining the wound on Sam's head.

"Shit, that's a lot of blood..." he mumbled, dry retching at the sight of the thick congealing liquid oozing from the cut that sat on Sam's hairline. "Come on Sam, wake up."

At the sound of clattering, Lestrade turned his head to see Rory and Dean. Rory fought the urge to look away, having faced too much tragedy for one day and not having the sufficient tolerance for yet another problem appearing. Dean knelt down beside Lestrade and looked at the cut on his brother's head.

"You'll live..." he grunted. "Now wake up, you son of a bitch. Rory, you're a nurse. Come here and check him over."

"He's still breathing..." Rory stated. "The cut just looks bad because of the blood. Head wounds tend to bleed a bit more."

"Anything else?"

"Moriarty probably just knocked him out cold. Bumps to the head do that sort of thing."

"Who are you?"

"Sam's brother," Dean grinned as he introduced himself. "And my friend."

Sam's eyes flickered open and he twitched, forcing himself to sit up. He reached around for a source of comfort, feeling completely disorientated in the aftermath of unearthing from his injuries. He raised an eyebrow at Dean and Rory, wondering what they were doing there. The three of them helped him up onto his feet, causing him to wince.

"Hey, take it easy." Dean told him. "Anything else hurt?"

"My shoulder." He winced, raising his other hand towards it. "I'll get it checked out. You and Rory can go. I'm fine."

"Nice to see you too, bro," he laughed. "Lestrade, right? Alert the rest of Scotland Yard. Go find Moriarty. I can't see him being too far away."

Lestrade nodded, phone already pressed to his ear, mumbling something that sounded like 'Donovan' and 'Dimmock' before he headed downstairs to catch a cab back to the station. Sam sighed, obviously struggling to handle the pain pulsing through his left shoulder.

"We're um..." Dean looked down and chuckled. "On top of a hospital. Are you getting checked out here or are we heading back to the TARDIS and John can have a look."

"TARDIS, but I'm staying in London, Dean," Sam mumbled as he staggered forward, regaining his steps.

"That's just the concussion talking, Sammy."

"Dean, I'm serious. I'm staying here."

"We'll talk about it in the TARDIS."

...

Sam- with his arm now in a sling and his head stitched back together- sat on the seat near the stairs to the bedrooms in the TARDIS control room. Adamant that he wanted to stay in London, he was desperately trying to defend his decision, but trying to convince Dean to agree to it was like trying to convince Sherlock into thinking that Anderson- the whiny forensic investigator he'd been forced to work alongside a couple of times- was not as annoying as he made him out to be. To say that Dean was angry would be a complete understatement- he was _fuming. _Sam's voice wavered between trying to stay calm and trying to assert himself, so Dean's booming grunts overpowered his minuscule attempts at trying to convince him.

"You're staying on the TARDIS, Sammy." Dean stated calmly, sounding the quietest he'd ever been in that past couple of minutes.

"Why, Dean?" Sam demanded, chucking his hands in the air with despair.

"Why are you so desperate to stay here?"

"People would die around here if it weren't for me... Lestrade, Sherlock's brother... They'd be dead if it weren't for me."

"There's hunters in Britain already, Sam."

"And clearly, there's not enough. Anyway, I need to stay there for the case. Lestrade... he's been acting strange."

"What do you mean by _strange?_" Dean scrunched his nose and shrugged in confusion.

"I think he might be one of the psychics."

_Checkmate. _

And Sam just walked off, clattering past the door of the TARDIS without a goodbye. Dean's over-protectiveness loomed over him, making him want to scream out in a rage and say that he wasn't a kid any more, and that he wasn't the stupid adult that he was a couple of years ago and that for once in his life he didn't feel like he was a freak or that he was crazy or that he was evil. Of course he understood that after all that he'd been through, he could never really be _normal, _but if being somewhere near normal gave him even the slightest bit of reassurance he'd accept it with the most gratitude that was humanly possible.

His phone buzzed in his pocket and the mere thought of it being Dean or one of the others from the TARDIS lodged a thick ball of dread in the back of his throat. He looked at the caller ID and sighed with relief- it was Molly.

"There's a body that's just brought in that I wanted you to take a look at." she explained nervously, not necessarily the best person on the phone. "It's... strange. I thought you could help?"

After he'd saved Lestrade and Mycroft from the serial killer ghost, Sam had discovered that Molly had actually met a couple of hunters as they often came into the mortuary and weren't that hard to spot so wasn't new to the fact that some things that the ignorant deemed impossible were actually... not so impossible after all.

"Of course."

...

"You called?" Sam smiled as he stood in the door frame, looking towards Molly. "Something about a dead man?"

"About that..." she nervously scratched the back of her neck as she pointed towards the slate with the body bag on top of it. "It wasn't so strange after all. It was... completely natural causes."

"Hello anyway," he wandered over to stand beside her.

"What happened to you?" she looked at his head and the sling on his arm.

"I've..." he looked down at the floor, his head injury making him feel a little uneasy. "Been through the wars today."

"Do you want a cup of tea?" Molly asked as she peeled off her rubber gloves and led him through to the other room.

"If it's not to much trouble?"

"Honestly, it's no bother. You look like you need it anyway."

They walked in silence for a bit, just enjoying each others' company. Molly's shoulders relaxed as she realised how chilled Sam was. Sam caught on to her smile and grinned back. Silence for once seemed more like a comfort than something to fear. It was as if it sat between the two of them smiling like the vicar at a wedding anticipating the moment that it would be socially acceptable to hold together the couple's head and shout 'now kiss'.

"So what are you doing once you leave here?" Sam asked, his voice gently replacing the silence.

"I'll probably order in a takeaway and watch a film or something," she laughed quietly. "What about you?"

"Beans on toast for me. Haven't had a chance to shop lately."

"Forget the takeaway. You look like you need a good meal," Molly- still not having made that cup of tea- smiled. "There's a restaurant down the street. I'll treat you to a meal."

"You don't have to-"

"Consider it a date."


	22. Evolution

_**Obviously a lot of this chapter is just character stuff except from the end but I just wanted to involve little things(Sherlock showing some compassion, some of the characters' feelings being observed,etc.) so I hope you enjoy:D**_

* * *

The Doctor flailed around the control panel as he led the TARDIS through the time vortex. Dean stood back nervously, still thinking he'd never get used to the jittery spasms that pulsed through his stomach whenever he was flying.

"It's about time I taught at least one of you lot to control this baby!" he smiled. "Who's first?"

"You're alright there, Doc." Dean chuckled queasily.

"What if I died?" The Doctor threw his hands in the air, and Rory winced at the words. "How would you lot get home?"

Not one of them replied. They knew that he was right. They just didn't want to face the thought of it.

"So anyway, this button makes things go a bit wibbly-wobbly..." he proceeded to whack his palm against the flashing button and the TARDIS swerved uneasily and before he knew it, Dean was humming Metallica. "This makes her go all timey-wimey."

"Doc, I think we're going to need a better lesson than this," Amy laughed as she looked around trying to make sense of the machine.

"This is why you're not called The Teacher," Rory added.

"I honestly don't see how you are all finding this so difficult to get your head around," Sherlock joined in as he walked towards the control panel. "This controls where we stop in _time_, or at least what I've seen The Doctor use to do so. This controls where we go in _space,_ and this is what you use to land, because it's the only control I've never seen him use."

"Don't die, Doc." Dean and Amy spoke in perfect unison.

...

"Would you like to order?" the waitress interrupted Sam and Molly's conversation.

"I'll have the prawn linguine, please," Molly took a sip of red wine.

"Chef's special will be fine for me," Sam handed the girl his menu. "So Molly, this is a date is it?"

"I..."

"Don't worry. I want it to be a date..." Sam laughed before taking a swig of his beer. "I haven't been on one of these in a _long _time."

"Any reason in particular?"

"I don't mean this in a 'I'm going to kill you' way but most of the people I've dated are dead."

"Considering the fact that I've been on a date with Britain's largest criminal I don't think you're doing that bad."

"I dated a demon," Sam laughed, sinking back into his chair. "I think I win."

The food came a few minutes later, after a couple of minutes of that glorious gentle silence.

"I don't think I've had a proper cooked meal in..." Sam stopped to swallow the mouthful of beef that oozed in his mouth. "My whole life."

"There's pie in my fridge. Home-made," Molly smiled. "Come back to mine for a bit and have a slice."

...

The Doctor-after his impromptu TARDIS flying lesson- had decided that the best thing to do was rest up and do a bit of research into what the Gallifreyans might be planning before setting off on another travel.

"Would you rather reside in a new planet or go somewhere here on earth?" he asked as he analysed the scanner.

"Earth," they all spoke in unison.

"Aha, somewhere normal for a change."

...

After great deliberation, The Doctor decided to plant the TARDIS somewhere in the middle of Glasgow Green. He'd always liked Scotland. It was another thing he could cling on to. A memory to take with him to his grave. A good one for once. No guilt. Just the simple thought of something good to think of. _Hope._

He'd picked a good time to go too. Just in the middle of summer, so it wasn't dark out by the time the park was closed.

He knew he didn't need to die. He didn't particular want to die either. But- at least in his logic- what was the point in saving himself and letting at the _very least_ a third of an entire species fall into the hands of his own unmerciful species? He watched Rory, pretending that everything would be okay and laughing and joking with John and Amy, but The Doctor could see it in his eyes- that little flicker of doubt in his expression as he accidentally exchanged glanced with him. The guilt filled his hearts again, pulling at them desperately just to try and get him to react.

"Food," he exclaimed, faking a smile. "I'll go get the food from the TARDIS kitchen."

Dean sat quietly in between Sherlock and Rory, not particularly in the mood for the jovial laughter that everyone was taking part in. Staring at the stars, he wondered what his brother was doing. He cursed himself for letting himself get so angry at Sam earlier, but it had been as if a thick fireball of frustration had fired itself from his chest. In all honesty, the only reason he didn't want Sam to stay in London for any longer was because he missed him. While he'd grown to know the others so well, nothing had seemed to live up to being on the road in the car he called his baby, blasting classic rock from the speakers with his brother by his side. The TARDIS was slightly overwhelming for him, and not just because of how nauseous the idea of hurtling through time and space made him feel. Just a week or two ago, he'd never known the people he was travelling with, nor did he even know aliens existed or that time travel was possible.

Grinning, The Doctor sauntered out of the TARDIS, chucking a picnic blanket down onto the grass and placing a basket of in the middle.

"A picnic?" Dean's face contorted in confusion. "We're not four."

"There's pie."

"Okay, we're four."

...

"For once in my life, I understand my brother's obsession with pie," Sam laughed, taking another bite of his second slice as he sank back into Molly's couch. "This is amazing, Mol."

"I had fun tonight," Molly joined him on the sofa.

"Yeah me too. We should go out again sometime."

"What, like dating?"

"Yeah, like dating."

"Sure."

...

Rory's silence- unlike the silence that practically hugged Sam and Molly with a gentle compassion- unnerved the others. He'd barely touched the plate of food that Amy had shoved in front of him, and despite being so full of laughter just minutes before, he'd been wordless and blank-faced since everyone else started piling in to the food. There was something cold about the way he just stared at the barely touched sandwiches on the flimsy paper plate, apathetic to everything around him. Amy gently placed a hand on his shoulder and asked him if he was okay, but he just mumbled something resembling a 'yes' and took a minuscule bite of his sandwich to keep her happy.

Sherlock seemed to catch on to Rory's discomfort, watching the way his forehead squinted in distress and how every so often he would rest his head in hands and pinch his nose with his fingers. Reaching in to the 'emergency travel kit' they now kept in the TARDIS(containing medical supplies, as with more people there was more risk of injury and illness), Sherlock chucked a packet of painkillers in his direction.

"Thanks," he muttered as he quickly swallowed one of the pills, thankful for the slight relief for the pain pulsing through his skull.

...

"Sam? Are you alright?" Molly noticed that Sam had gone a bit quiet.

"Head hurts," he sighed, blinking slowly at the sudden increase in pain. "Hit it pretty hard earlier."

"Wait a sec..." she wandered through to the kitchen and came back with a box of ibuprofen. "Take two."

He mumbled a thank you, suddenly not in the mood to talk. He swallowed back the nausea that rose in his throat and forced himself to refrain from shaking and sighed again, looking at Molly trying to find a sense of comfort in her eyes.

"Oh god, you've gone all pale..." Molly fussed as she handed him a glass of water.

Sam winced again as the pain shot through his entire skull again as if someone was beating on his temples like a drum. Shaking in desperation, he clutched his head in his hands almost pulling on his hair as he stumbled of his chair and onto his knees. Molly watched with worry, cautiously stroking his shoulders trying to comfort him. Sam was barely aware she was there any more, as he drifted through the limbo between consciousness and sleep.

...

Rory crashed down onto the floor, a scream erupting from his throat as the searing agony tore through his skull. Writhing in pain, he looked up at the others for even an an ounce of relief. John knelt down, examining his eyes and trying to make sure he was okay, whilst Rory continued to wince.

"Vision?" Dean asked quietly.

"I... don't know..." he shrugged. "It seems... More painful...than usual."

...

_Children lined up on either side of the area, all around eight years old or a bit older and from different countries and time periods.. Quite literally millions of them. Almost a third of the population of kids in the world. Some were sobbing desperately, crying for their mothers and their fathers, and some understood that they'd have to stay quiet and stay strong or else things wouldn't swing their way. Not far from the children, silence swarmed through the area as a microphone was tapped. A selection of adults, albeit a smaller percentage of the population stood behind a smartly dressed man. _

_"You lot are special!" the man-just a man, not a Gallifreyan- screamed through a microphone. "The Gallifreyans want you."_

_"What's going on though?" a particularly confident boy near the front asked him. "I mean, what do they want us for?"_

_"The Gallifreyans were a mighty race until The Great Time War. They want their name to live on. A new race of Time Lords. If they can't come back, they might as well pass on the honour, don't you think?"_

_"And how can they possibly do that?" one of the adults asked. "You can't just... make a new race from another species."_

_"There have been experiments conducted," the man continued. "On the offspring of two people which was conceived while they were travelling through the time vortex. They discovered that due to this exposure, she showed traces of Time Lord DNA. This meant that it coded for the proteins and genetic make up that makes it possible for regeneration. The Gallifreyans believe that by raising a group of children- which by the way, is everyone here- the Gallifreyan culture and exposing them to the time vortex for a portion of time, through the generations the Time Lord DNA will continue to show. Think of it as... Evolution! Replacing the... less adapted beings with us!"_

_"To evolution!" a group of the adults exclaimed._

_"To evolution!" almost every single child repeated in turn._

_..._

__Sam came back to reality, shivering with unexplainable terror. _Evolution. _That's exactly what they were planning. Wiping out the entire human race just to start a new one. The sheer moral wrongness didn't sit right with him, making him want to vomit at the thought of it. He pulled himself away from thinking about it and sought out Molly, who wandered over to take a look at him and see if he was alright.

"Hey, you okay?" she brushed back his hair and helped him back up onto the sofa. "You were completely out of it there. You scared me."

"M'okay..." he stumbled over his words, his head still thumping with a dull ache. "Concussion, I think."

"Sam you spaced out completely. Surely...-"

"I'm fine, Mol. I was knocked unconscious when I hit my head..."

"As long as you're not going to die on me," she laughed half heartedly. "Stay here tonight. I don't want you being alone if you're not one hundred percent."

...

"Rory..." Amy practically grabbed him to her chest at the first sign that he was escaping from the dream. "Thank god you're okay."

"Evolution..." he mumbled desperately. "They're planning evolution..."


	23. Bunker

**I've been doing some research on TARDIS wiki just to make sure nothing I'm writing contradicts and it said a couple of things about the year 2040 but they were from the K9 thing which isn't considered canon so...**

**Also I know OCs can be annoying, but I just want to be able to make an opening for Captain Jack and possibly Nine and Ten, so look out for that.**

* * *

Despite their plans to set up camp and rest for a bit while they did some research, after Rory's latest dream The Doctor had decided it would be best to keep on travelling and do their research on the way. Rory's head lolled in his hands as he fought the urge to fall asleep, the lingering pain still tapping away at his brain. Amy stroked his hair back and asked him if he was okay now, to which he whispered 'I will be' and smiled. They sat in silence for a bit, before John spoke.

"Evolution?" he scrunched his nose in confusion.

"Taking children and making them into Time Lords over well... time," Rory sighed into his words tiredly.

"That's why they took River?" The Doctor asked, wondering if this had been put into context by the dream. "To investigate?"

"I think so."

"And what about the people left on Earth that they don't take?" Amy shrugged angrily. "Will they inhabit another planet?"

"I think... they want to replace them. Or at least that's what it seemed like. As if they're less adapted," Rory answered.

The Doctor stared at the floor as the indescribable hatred filled in his gut. It was his species, his race,and most importantly, it was his fault. The rest of them would speak about unjust the Gallifreyans were being, but the lingering guilt refused to give him a break, constantly acting as a reminder that it was he who'd defeated them. He couldn't stand the thought of another war, but he knew that if they couldn't stop it, that's what it would come to.

"I thought the time lock just caused the war to repeat itself over and over?" Amy directed the question towards The Doctor.

"The war continues, but the Gallifreyans are perfectly aware they are in time lock. They just watch the war unfold day in day out as people find a new way to die," The Doctor explained.

"Like in hell?" Dean scoffed half-heartedly, feeling his heart pound at the thought of it.

"I...guess so."

...

Sam slumped down onto Molly's sofa and sprawled out on his stomach, mumbling happily as he curled up. Molly watched as he fell asleep almost instantly. _Bless him, _Molly thought. The big lump barely fit on the seat, his legs dangling off the edge. She flung a blanket over him, which was also too small to accommodate the tall man's stature and slowly eased off the sling that seemed to be constricting his painful shoulder the way he was lying.

She sighed, feeling slightly confused by what had just happened. She'd knew Sam for a bit now, having helped him, Lestrade and Mycroft on most of their cases, but it still felt like there was something- _just a small, lingering something- _that he hadn't told her. Just minutes before, Sam was away with the fairies, gawking at thin air as he hovered between the dream and reality. Surely something- _something _more than a little knock to the head- was wrong with him?

Her thoughts were cut short as she heard the phone ringing, forcing her to stop wallowing in her worry to get up and answer it.

"Molly?" It was Sally Donovan, the whiny police officer. "Have you seen Inspector Lestrade?"

"Um...No I haven't," she sighed, unable to ignore the apprehensive tone in Sally's voice. "Is something wrong?"

"I've been trying to get in touch with him- something to do with a case. He's not been himself recently and forgive me for being worried, but I can't help but think something's happened."

"It is quite late. He might be asleep?" Molly suggested. "I'll pop round tomorrow morning and make sure he's okay but I really have to go, I'm kind of busy."

"Since when are you busy?" Sally couldn't help but bitch, could she? "Sorry. It's just you don't usually have plans..."

"Sam was over just to ask me something," she spoke almost a bit too quickly. "He wasn't feeling great so I said he could stay here so he didn't have to drive home."

"Well I wouldn't want to distract you from your guest."

...

"Where are we heading now, Doc?" John asked calmly as they headed back into the TARDIS.

"From what I've observed," for once The Doctor doesn't sound silly, and instead remained serious as he pressed a couple of buttons. "The Gallifreyans have somehow taken children over a number of years- I'm guessing about twenty, from 2010 until 2030."

"So what are you planning to do?"

"We need to examine the situation first, and see what we have to contend with."

"So where are we going?" Rory joined in with the conversation.

"Earth, during the year 2045."

...

"Molly?" Sam croaked as he sat up, feeling like his head had faced the wrath of Thor's hammer. "Mol?"

"Hey, you okay there?" she noticed his struggle to push himself up from the chair and helped him to steady himself.

"M'okay..." he grunted, reaching for the glass of water Molly had left in front of him. "Sorry for...-"

"It was no bother," she smiled gently. "Would you like a cup of tea?"

...

"Just where we were beforehand!" he exclaimed. "Just thirty odd years in the future."

"This?" Dean pointed at the scanner. "That can't be Glasgow."

The image didn't reflect what they'd seen in the short time they'd been there in any way shape or form. Amy scoped the image on the scanner desperately looking for something familiar. Finding nothing, she waited for the rest of them to get a move on.

All of them except Rory who was still recovering left the TARDIS, too busy talking about the fact that _Glasgow_ wasn't exactly _Glasgow_ to notice the fact that there were guns pressed against their chests.

"Do you mind not pointing your weapon at my heart?" Sherlock grabbed hold of the end of the gun and moved it out of the way, the wit oozing from his grin. "I'd like it to keep beating for the moment, thank you very much."

"Just trying to pass my exams, sir." the young boy readjusted his weapon. "Don't worry, we won't shoot unless you try to run. We're the nice ones."

There were three teenagers, not one of them older than seventeen, each of them holding their rifles properly, as if they'd known how to use them for years. They signalled for the group to start walking and stepped alongside them, the guns not once wavering from the central point in their chests. Sherlock took a look at the three of them: two boys and one girl.

"So where are you taking us?" Amy seemed to be the only one with the sense to ask the most obvious question.

"In for questioning," the girl sighed. "Just making sure you're not going to kill us, or anythi-"

The girl stopped in her tracks as a loud ringing sound filled the city, erupting from the speakers attached to the lamp posts. One of the boys sighed apathetically; obviously whatever was going on was a regular occurrence.

"That's the second attack warning this week!" he groaned, his thick Glaswegian accent coming across strongly. "You lot can come to our bunker."

...

"I'm Christine," the girl smiled gently. "And this is Josh and Arthur."

"Don't worry, we're not like the nutjobs in charge of this country at the moment," Arthur laughed. "Can't wait until the Gallifreyan Party is out of power."

"Don't let Mr Harkness hear you say that!" Josh gasped.

"Mr Harkness?" The Doctor's head shot up.

"Our supervisor from Torchwood. He's in the kitchen bunker next door."

And at that moment, he walked straight in, the good old smile still plastered on his face like usual. Before heds even had a moment to take everything in, The Doctor knew that Jack Harkness had recognized him even though he'd not seen him since before his latest regeneration.

"Hello," and with the same flirty grin, he held out his hand to the strangers. "Captain Jack Harkness."


	24. Atrocity

**Warnings: Mentions of made up political stuff, alcohol, 'death'. **

Normally, the threat of injury or illness wouldn't stop the Winchesters from getting on with their business. It wasn't as if the world was going to say 'oh okay I'm just going to end a day later for you because you're hurt'. The world would still end, and any time they had to themselves was rare and sacred. They didn't have time to hole up in a hotel room or bombard Bobby's house every time they had a sniffle or an ache. Time just didn't swing their way.

Yet, Sam Winchester now had a bit of time on his hands. The Moriarty case was progressing pretty slowly, and there seemed to be a better proportion of monsters to hunters in Britain due to the size of the country, so it wasn't as if he was needed for anything. He could let his wounds heal properly, without having to douse them in whiskey and cross his fingers that the dental floss stitches weren't going to tear apart or get infected. He could actually have a proper sleep instead of propping his head against the uncomfortable Impala window trying to find at least a molecule of comfort, and of course, there was the factor that Molly was a lot less irritating to have around when his head was pounding-both from his recent altercation with Moriarty and the 'evolution' vision- than having Dean blasting music down his ears and refusing to turn it down.

"Thanks for letting me stay here for a bit, Mol..." he grinned, slowly edging across the sofa to make room for her to sit down.

"Stop thanking me!" she laughed, taking a seat. "It's fine!"

...

"Don't worry kids," Jack's tone was friendly. "I'm not particularly a follower of the Gallifreyan Party myself."

"But you-" Christine tried to argue.

"I'm a supervisor, yes," he laughed awkwardly. "But I'm not exactly an honest man."

"So you're a rebel?" Josh queried, a shy grin spreading across his face. "Finally, a man with some sense!"

"It's not your attack?" The Doctor pointed outside, waiting for a response from his old friend. "Jack?"

"It's not Torchwood's, no."

"You work for Torchwood?" Arthur gasped. "Is that even still running, or?"

"Time travel, my friend." Jack chuckled. "It's an amazing thing."

"So what's going on here, Mr Harkness?" Amy piped up, watching the unfamiliar man invading The Doctor's 'bubble'.

"The Gallifreyan Party are currently in power in Britain, and the equivalent in most other countries too. Between 2010 and 2030 numerous children were taken from their families at the age of eight-"

"And raised to learn the ways of a Gallifreyan," The Doctor continued. "They will have been exposed to the time vortex during the appropriate time brackets."

"Evolution takes a while," Jack took over again. "Slowly but surely, through genetic mutation and natural selection, their DNA should adapt to their surroundings to properly cope with the time vortex over a number of generations. The Gallifreyan party are made up of the brainwashed kids taken mostly."

"And they've managed to brainwash everyone else..." Josh complained nervously.

"It's not everyone's fault," Arthur shrivelled back into the little sofa in the bunker. "There's loads of jobs available in the academies, and we need to listen to their crap to get a job in the future-"

"Don't worry," Dean ran his hand down his face with anger at the thought of how awful Earth had become. "Be as aggressive as you like. As far as we're concerned, The Gallifreyan Party can go-"

"Dean," John sighed, telling Dean off like he used to do with Sherlock.

"A lot people just drink themselves into oblivion nowadays," Arthur sighed, twiddling his school tie in his fingers. "My mum just so happens to be one of those people. Can't blame her, seeing as the government is so bloody corrupt and the economy is so shitty...I need to stick on with this stupid school just so I can put a roof over our heads."

Dean knew what it was like to be at the stage where the only thing you could do was swig back glass after glass of whisky in the hope that just maybe it would numb for the pain for a bit. The group cursed at the atrocity of it all. Here in front of them were three young _teenagers _who should've been worrying about exams and nights out and clothes and television shows, but instead were trained to use guns they shouldn't even have seen at any point in their lives, and forced to grow up watching people slip into bad habits just because of the bloody Gallifreyans' stupid power complex. Amy caught sight of poor Josh cower away nervously at John's kind smile of reassurance, unable to trust unfamiliar people. The Doctor's heart ripped with a sense of moral liability as he watched Arthur tug the sleeves of his school cardigan over his wrists suspiciously as he gnawed on the nail of his thumb. And then of course, there was poor little Christine shrivelling into Captain Jack's side, desperate for even an ounce of comfort from someone she knew.

...

Rory stumbled out of the bedrooms and into the TARDIS control room, his head still pounding as if Thor was battering it with his hammer. Feeling rough, he took a seat down on the little chair near the steps towards the TARDIS' swimming pool/library.

"Rory?" the man's head shot up at the sound of The Doctor's voice, which he'd found strange as he'd not seen or heard the TARDIS door open.

"Doctor..." he winced at the sight of his friend.

The man- who appeared to be The Doctor on sight- staggered over, clutching at his chest as he coughed and choked and winced in pain. A shadow of The Doctor Rory knew stood before him, as if he was being torn apart, wire by wire being ripped out of his system. He was paler than Rory had every seen him before, and he just looked so _old. _His eyes pierced into Rory. '_Just let me die'_, they said. _'Just let me burn...'_

And at that, The Doctor ignites in flames, burning away at his skin as he screamed in agony. His body flashed oddly, his skeleton appearing to glow as death without regeneration overtook him. Screaming in agony, the flames spread, engulfing every bone, muscle and organ in their burning ferocity, The Doctor was now nothing but a pile of ash.

_"He's going to burn..._" Rory heard, and in that moment he realised it had been a hallucination.


	25. Fault

And now he was burning too. It felt as if his brain was trying to claw its way out of his skull, threatening to shatter the bones and leave him writhing in its bid for freedom. Pressing his achy head against the cool metal of the TARDIS control panel, he observed the shakiness of his hands before he ran his fingers through his hair as he sat himself up again, feeling the sweat soak his palms. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone to check if there was any news from the others.

_Give us a call once you're awake - Amy x_

He sighed and dialled Amy's number, holding the phone to his ear.

"Rory!" Amy's voice bounced in his ears. "You're finally up, lazy bones! If you're coming to meet up with us-"

"I'm not," he stopped her from continuing, his voice sounding dull and monosyllabic. "I'm happy here in the TARDIS."

"Are you okay?" her tone softened slightly. "You sound-"

"I'm just _peachy,_" he choked out sarcastically. "Nah, I'm hanging in there, don't worry."

"Just...look after yourself, okay?"

And the line's dead, the sound waves pounding at his ear drum as he fumbled to shut it off. He gathered the energy to pull himself onto his feet and took a few steps forward, his eyes clenched shut, desperately hoping that he wouldn't have to watch The Doctor burned to nothing but ashes again. He looked over to the spot where it had happened, half expecting to see the pile of grey dust still sitting there, screaming at him in desperation to get noticed. But there was nothing. Just silence. Cold, dark, empty silence.

...

"I never caught your names," Jack' smirked.

"Amy." "Dean." "Sherlock. "John."

"Captain Jack Harkness," he said the words four times, and with each instance he held out his hand for it to be shaken.

The silence coiled round each of their throats. It was strange, The Doctor, having Captain Jack Harkness not saying a word, but he took another glance at the three teenagers and acknowledged the mood.

"How were the children taken, Jack?" The Doctor's voice broke the silence after about ten minutes, raised and uptight as he paced the floor. "All those years ago... Who took them?"

"They..." he contemplated for a minute, his face scrunching up while he thought of the right word. "Just... vanished."

"People don't just vanish."

"It seems that way if you can't remember seeing them get taken."

It was obvious that The Doctor and Amy knew- or at least had some idea- who it was. The silence returned, seeping through their skin and into their bloodstreams, programming them to keep their mouths shut. The Doctor swallowed his disgust, wincing with hatred towards himself and his species; at what they had become.

"How's Rory?" John spoke, to avoid the looming awkwardness that hung over their heads. "Is he catching up with us later?"

"He's just woke up," she sighed in response. "He seemed a little off, so I doubt it."

A conversation had sparked, and soon everyone except The Doctor was talking. He seemed quiet; not himself. He shrunk back into his chair, not even sure why the cat had suddenly got his tongue. Amy had noticed, and in between laughing and joking would take her time to glance over at him and ponder over what was wrong.

"Hey," she fake-punched him in the shoulder playfully. "I can't have both _my boys_ being all grumpy, can I?"

"Hmm?" he looked confused as he stared up at her, wide eyed and tired looking.

"What's wrong with you?"

"I'm okay."

"Pleas-"

"I'M FINE!"

All eyes were on The Doctor know as he breathed deeply, his lip quivering with an overwhelming feeling of helplessness.

"It's my fault," he mumbled towards the three teenagers. "Your lives are awful because of _me."_

"We don't even know your name!" Josh exclaimed. "How can it be your fault?"

"I'm The Doctor," he watched as the three of them shrivelled back in fear. "That dreadful hated man they've told you about who locked his own _mighty _race in never-ending war! The fugitive who stole a box and ran away! The-"

"Pleas-" Jack began, trying to calm the man.

"I'm fine."

"Come o-" Amy coaxed.

"I'M FINE!" he was physically shaking. "I'm..."

"So it's all your fault then is it?" Josh hissed. "It's your fault my mum and dad were taken away when they were only eight! It's your fault my parents hate me because I haven't got even a speck of Time Lord DNA in my cells! Do

"Don't," Amy glared at him, defending her old friend. "Don't you dare."

"Do you know how much I hate you?" the teenager continued with his rage. "I've only agreed with The Gallifreyan Party once, and that's when they said that you were a _monster. _A no good, trigger-happy _monster!"_

"I'm sorry..." The Doctor sat back, swallowing the thick ball of guilt that rose in his throat. "The war-"

"I don't give a shit about the war, Doc." He scoffed desperately in disgust. "We've learnt about it in school. You ran, Doctor. You couldn't face what you did so you ran. You ran, and destroyed more lives! You picked up human companions on the way, and guess what? You ruined their lives too! Rose. Remember Rose?"

The bullet pummels its way through not only the lonely Time Lord's heart, but Captain Jack's too.

"That was the best history lesson ever, if you ask me," he smiled half-heartedly. "And Donna. What about good ol' Donna, Doctor?"

"Stop it," The Doctor seemed almost frail as he spoke after absorbing the comments as if he knew them to be true. "Just stop it, _please._"

"We're here to try and help, you ungrateful son of a bitch!" Dean grunted angrily. "So how about you quit it with your incessant whining for a minute and hear him out... Your life is a pile of shit. We get it. Just don't use him as your scapegoat."

He turned towards the fragile man, who shrivelled into the door frame between their bunker and the little kitchenette next door. He looked unsettled; as if every single raw nerve in his body had been hit with a ton of bricks. Jack, who knew The Doctor just as well as Amy did, glared at Josh, knowing that what the young boy had said been taken too far.

"He's got trust issues," Christine pleaded in Josh's defence. "Don't be too hard on him. He's just afraid."

"And I'm the man you're afraid of?" The Doctor's eyes sank with a sense of discomfort as he lifted his shaking hand. "Look at me. I'm _terrified. _I'm terrified of _me. _I don't.. I _can't_ blame you for being scared."


	26. Space

The Doctor, his whole body still shaking, took a couple of steps backwards into the kitchen bunker next door. His hearts pounded desperately making him feel like they weren't beating in synchronisation with each other, refusing to conform to the 1,2,3,4 beat they were meant to be following. He leant his hand against the wall to calm himself, clutching at his painful chest as he tried to steady his feet. He knew the affliction wouldn't become a threat to his everyday life for at least months(a short time period for Time Lord disease to fester of course, due to their resilience and compared to a Time Lord's general lifespan), but he knew that in times of stress, overexertion and anxiety he'd get weaker much quicker than before; reduced to the level of resilience of a human, as far as immune system and stamina go.

"Doc?" Captain Jack's head popped around the door frame. "Hey, hey, hey! Steady!"

"I'm..." he took a second to compose himself. "Steady."

"What happened there?" Jack, still completely trusting of the man after the confrontation with Josh, smiled genuinely in The Doctor's direction. "So excited to see me that one of your hearts has stopped?"

"You're not that beautiful," The Doctor laughed, pressing his forehead against the cool wall. "Just...ah... in a bit of pain."

"You're hurt?" he raised an eyebrow.

"Just a little weaker than usual, I guess. I'm getting old."

The conversation was brought to a halt as an alarm sounded. _Saved by the bell... _

"We can leave the bunker."

...

"Back to the TARDIS to check on Rory and decide what we're going to do and then we can get down to business," The Doctor walked back through to the other room as if nothing had happened and he was back to his old self. "Jack, take the teenagers back to the school and we'll meet up with you in a bit, okay?"

"But we want to hel-" Arthur began to protest.

"Help him?" Josh scoffed. "You're joking."

"You heard Dean. They came to _help _us. To see what's going on so they can go back and change it."

"We're just going to check on our friend," John explained; ever the voice of reason. "Arthur, Christine? If you want to help you stay with Jack. Josh, you're more than welcome to join us if you wish."

...

"Don't worry about what that kid said Doc," Dean gave him a pat on the back as they headed back towards the blue box. "We've all got our ghosts."

"Poor child-" Sherlock smirked, sensing the opportunity for a deduction."

"Hey, show off?" Amy placed her hand on his shoulder, to which he shrugged away from. "Don't make us all look stupid, would you? I'm feeling particularly clever today!"

"Just this once," the corner of his mouth upturned a little as he pulled open the door of the TARDIS.

Too busy trying to get another smile out of Sherlock, the group continued the hustle and bustle as they huddled round the scanner, waiting until it switched on. Only Sherlock seemed to notice, but not being the type of man to run over and fret, he just stared at the mass on the floor, anticipating each rise and fall of it's chest waiting for everyone else to catch on. John noticed the stillness of Sherlock's stance and turned his head to follow Sherlock's glare.

"Rory..." he dashed over to the shivering sweaty man lying on the floor, feeling a little guilty that he'd not taken notice in the first place. "Just sit up slowly..."

"I'm..." he gasped for breath, his hands shaking as he pushed himself up to sit.

"What happened?" Dean ran across to help.

"Haluc'nation..." he stammered. "Doc'r... gon' burn..."

"Crap," John pressed his hand against Rory's forehead. "You're really warm."

"TARDIS...on fire..."

"Rory..." Amy joined them, grabbing her husband's hand. "We need to take him home! We can't just leave him alone, Doctor!"

Yet The Doctor just stood there, watching his friend writhe in distress and not seeming desperate to go and help. Amy searched his face, waiting for him to gesticulate an answer, but he just stared at her blankly. Wordless, he averted his eyes away from Rory, his bottom lip quivering._  
_

"Doctor!" she pleaded.

"Dean," John looked up at him. "Fetch us a wet cloth and a glass of water, please?"

"I'm on it," he headed through to the kitchen.

"M'okay," Rory croaked tiredly, seeming a little more coherent as he waved away John's assistance. "I just... the nightmare thing is getting a bit worse."

"As if they've been upgraded to 3D?"

"Hallucinations," Rory nodded.

"What did you see?"

"The Doctor came into the control room, spoke to me and then went up in flames... But I kept seeing it again and again and again... The whole TARDIS just caught on fire... I thought I was going to burn alive."

"Well then, we better get you cooled down," John caught the wet cloth that Dean had thrown towards him and handed it to Rory, who placed it on his forehead and tilted his head back to balance it. "We'll be here for quite a while, I think.

"How long will you all be here?" Rory took a sip of the glass of water Dean had handed him.

"Half an hour?" John tilted his head to ask The Doctor for a confirmation. "We're not sure what we're doing yet."

"If I've...ahem... composed myself by then, I'll join you. Being in the TARDIS alone... messes with your mind a bit." he stared at The Doctor as he said it, who continued to seem a little spaced out. "Go talk about what you're planning to do. I'm going to go get something to eat."

"I'm going to call Sam before we talk," Dean pulled his phone from his pocket. "Make sure he's okay."


	27. Hope

**Guess who'll be in this/the next chapter... heeheheh:')**

* * *

"Come on, Sammy!" Dean was about to chuck his mobile onto the floor, but Amy managed to salvage the electronic contraption as she pried it from his fist. "Pick up the phone, you son of a bitch!"

"He can't hear you, Dean!" Amy handed the phone back to him. "What phone did you call him on anyway?"

"The number for 221B, then the number for your house."

"I'm not Sherlock but... from that information I can deduce that, first, you are an idiot, and second... Sam's busy."

"But-"

"Sam's fine, Dean. He'll be out investigating or something," Amy gave him a pat on his shoulder and started walking away. "I'm going to go make sure my husband hasn't fallen asleep and decided to make Rory rice soup."

...

After half an hour of rest, the group set down to deciding what they were going to do. Dean paced among the others, going over all the options in his head as the rest of them spouted other suggestions. The Doctor, still letting the silence crawl away at his throat and tear at his vocal chords, turned his back and pretended to mess around with the TARDIS control panel and look busy.

"What's the plan, Doc?" Dean stopped pacing for a moment and stood back, leaning on one of the railings.

"I don't know..." The Doctor didn't turn to look at them.

"But Doc-" Amy reached out her hand hesitantly, looking concerned for her friend.

"I don't know!" the silence spread, residing in all of their throats now.

"Look, we get it. You're a little butt-hurt because a little kid _hurt your feelings,_" Dean exclaimed, grabbing The Doctor's shoulder and forcing him to look him in the eye. "But you can't space out like this! You can't pretend you couldn't give two shits about those kids! Okay, you've killed people. Okay, they're lives are a pile of shit because of you. But you're the only person that can save them. We can't do this without you."

"You've saved the world before," The Doctor sighed tiredly, his voice deflating as he accepted his defeat.

"This is different."

"Okay," his frown slowly turned into a smile. "What's the plan?"

"Unexpected infiltration of the Gallifreyan Party government?" John suggested.

"We want to make sure they never get in power, not kill them all when it's too late," Amy protested.

"So back in time we go?" Dean laughed.

"We'll go back," The Doctor grinned. "Follow Rory's premonitions like we've been doing whilst we work on stopping the people ranting about this 'new evolution' and try and find out even more about what is planned."

"There's one thing I don't understand..." Rory piped up. "Why are Sam and I having these premonitions? If they were just taking children-"

"Children were taken for the particular reason that they could be exposed to the time vortex for longer. Eight years old. Old enough to understand their situation, but at the right age for their minds to be malleable enough to be moulded and shaped to believe what they're being told," The Doctor explained. "They need to be taught by someone, don't they?"

"But why me? Why Sam?"

"Sam had psychic powers before. It's possible that they were just... dormant. You... When you were an auton... or when the auton was you... You get what I mean... You must have built up quite an amount of time energy from the two thousand years you spent waiting. Not much can get through the Time Lock- stars, energy, electricity, prophecies... An existing spark always helps."

"Doc?" Amy spoke suddenly. "We need to do something for those kids."

"Amy..."

"Doctor, when we go back in time and change this future they won't exist. But... we'll remember them. Can't we just... I don't know, try and change their lives a bit? Just so we know that we've made an effect on someone's life? They're real people, Doctor. Whether they're going to be wiped from existence or not, they are real. Just... one thing. One little thing."

"Amy," The Doctor grinned. "Since when have I ever left without actually solving anything?"

Amy smiled, grabbing his hand and pulling him into a hug.

...

Captain Jack stood a couple of steps away from the TARDIS, joined by the young girl Christine and the boy Arthur. As predicted, Josh had decided that he didn't want to help with whatever was going on, and headed back to the school to listen to another lesson about how _awful _The Doctor was and sigh in distress, as he'd now come face to face with one of the man's faces. The Doctor wandered over to them grinning and rubbing his hands together.

"So what is it exactly we're going to help you with?" Christine asked. "I don't particularly want to have to go on the run for rebelling or anything... My dad would kill me."

"You're not going to help us as such," Dean smiled. "We're going to help you."

"We can't change what's going on now," The Doctor took over. "But we're planning to change the past. Make sure the Gallifreyan party never gets into power in the first place."

"So we won't exist?" Arthur laughed half-heartedly.

"We can ensure that your parents meet, if you'd like, but we can't ensure that you'll exist, or that you'll become who you are today through that."

"It doesn't matter. If you have a world to save, it doesn't matter about us not existing. What's supposed to happen will happen right?"

"So anyway, we decided we couldn't leave without making sure you've got something to live for her, even if you don't end up existing at some point and the world gets saved..." Rory explained.

"I just... I mean I can't complain, my life's actually alright," Christine sighed. "I mean, my life's not half as bad as Arthur's. My parents don't really care if I've got any Time Lord DNA, because nobody else has either. That sort of crap only exists in political propaganda and in television shows."

"Just..." Arthur stared at the floor. "Don't do this for me, please? Do this for my mum. I mean... give her a reason to... _live her life _instead of drinking it away, okay?"

"Of course," the smile was genuine, seeping through every inch of the Time Lord's body as he saw the hopeful glint in the teenager's eyes.


	28. Three

It had taken her a while to put her finger on it, but Amy had finally realised what had bothered her so much about the sight of Glasgow she saw before her. It was eerily quiet, as if the life and soul of twenty first century Glasgow had been ripped from the streets and shoved inside of the large windowed houses and tall buildings of offices, hidden from the truth that seeped through the streets, sitting and taunting those that dared to observe. Although the Glasgow she knew wasn't exactly known for being a thriving habitat for nature, it was odd not see the odd pigeon plodding it's feet along the floor as it scrounged for morsels of food. The streets- which she always thought would be filled with colourful teenagers wandering around the shops without a care in the world, or the not so colourful businessmen with 'no time' to want to be stopped by the people on street corners screaming at them to buy yapping toy dogs or children's toys 'three for a pound'- were bare. The few shops that weren't closed with paper signs telling the little customers they had left that they'd gone bust lacked the jovial shoppers Amy was used to seeing spend as long as possible in one shop browsing for clothes, who had instead been replaced by people who were in too much of a rush to care, grabbing what they needed and leaving as early as possible.

"How can you live here?" she blurted out towards Christine.

"It's..." Christine stopped to contemplate for a moment. "I guess I've never questioned it before. It's what we're used to."

"But..." Amy shook her head in distaste. "Cities like this should be filled with people. Happy people. Children with their parents, teenagers trying to get away from their parents... _Parents!_"

"It's only four," Jack noted. "Most schools don't finish until half past."

"Still," she went on to argue.

"It's not all boring people rushing to work around here, don't worry. I'll... I promise you there's a few happy people around here _somewhere,_" but the optimistic man was fighting a lost cause.

"Who's hungry?" Dean found a gap in the conversation which was slowly filling with pessimism, and grinned as he tried to fill it with a little bit of positivity instead. "I could really go for some pie."

"Knowing how _horrible_ this town has become, I bet there's not even a restaurant around here," Amy sighed jokingly.

"Even here- _in the most depressing place you've ever set foot in... _There's a restaurant somewhere," Jack spoke dramatically. _  
_

...

The little restaurant was small, resembling 2045's equivalent to the diners Dean had grown accustomed to eating in, except from the warm smell of home cooked proper food diffusing through the air. The place was pretty much empty, except from the sound of two people talking in the corner, and a man with his back to them delving into his sandwich.

"Look! Happy-" Jack pointed at the pair- a man in a long brown trench coat, and a woman with red hair- before he realised who they were. "...People."

"What is it?" Amy prodded the man in his chest to get an answer. "Who are they?"

"This isn't good," The Doctor mumbled.

"Can someone please tell me what is going on?"

"I'm going to assume that the man over there is someone that both The Doctor and Jack Harkness know," Sherlock grinned. "Look at what the man is wearing. Not many men would be willing to dress quite as eccentric as that man is dressed. Now who else do we know that has a just as...colourful fashion taste, who has admitted to us in the past that when he is faced with death, changes his whole appearance?"

"It can't be," The Doctor stared. "I can't remember. I would be able to remember."

"Doc," Jack nudged his shoulder and pointed to the other man, clothed in a leather jacket. "I can assure you, I had no idea. Oh lord, three Doctors? It's Christmas."

"Stop it, you."

...

"Hey, I thought you said this place was abandoned?" the red-haired woman turned her head to look at the group of people who had just entered. "There's people over there! Actual people!"

"Well..." the man wearing the brown trench coat, which trailed underneath his seat, spoke. "Maybe it's not _completely _abandoned."

"Aren't we supposed to be investigating instead of eating..." she scraped her fork through the splodge of food on her plate. "What looks a bit like macaroni cheese, but tastes like... whatever this tastes like?"

"Wait..." he turned his head, his hand already in his pocket reaching for the silver-blue contraption that resided there. "Something's not right."

"Don't wave that around here!"

"Don't worry! this place is abandoned!"

"But there is people!"

The man pulled himself up from his chair, his brown coat floating around him as he scoped the room, his eyes drifting from the man in the leather jacket to the group of people who had just walked in, which included a familiar face, and a face that didn't sit well with him. He pulled the silver contraption out of his pocket and pointed it upwards, the blue light flashing as it made a noise.

"But I don't remember..." his eyes fixated on the man in the leather jacket. "Why don't I remember?"

"Mind explaining what's going on?" the red haired woman asked.

"That man over there in the leather jacket is me and I _think _that the man in the bow tie with all those people is me too. Well...I can't be sure. Haven't had that face yet."

"And?" she questioned his distress. "There's a threat that the world is ending, and you don't think future and past you would want to try and help?"

"But I would never risk bringing myself here if I knew that my previous regeneration would be joining me."

"Okay you can't remember. You're an old man. You'll forget things."


	29. Perception

"Let's just leave," Amy tugged on The Doctor's coat. "This doesn't seem right."

"Amy," The Doctor turned his head towards the door. "I don't think we can."

"What? Of course we-" Amy tried to open the door of the restaurant, but it was bolted shut, no matter how much force she applied to the handle. "Can't."

"So we're stuck in here?" Rory rolled his eyes, trying to push open the mass of wood himself. "_Brilliant_."

Knowing they wouldn't be able to go anywhere, the group edged forward into the centre of the room in complete silence, not wanting to draw the attention of the other three people in the restaurant. Rory shivered, mouthing a complaint about how cold it had suddenly become as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. Dean looked at him with a judgemental smirk, until the blast of cold air trickled along his neck too.

"It's not a ghost, is it?" Rory glared at Dean, looking for answers. "You said ghosts make the air go cold."

"I don't think it's cold enough." Dean grunted, running his eyes around the room. "We can't see our breath in the air."

"I" just..." Arthur tensed up, shivering as he leant desperately against the door. "I don't care about you trying to help or anything. I just want to go home."

"It's okay, Arthur," Christine gave him a pat on his shoulder. "We'll get out of here, okay? "

"Sonic it?" Rory suggested.

"I was getting to that," The Doctor nudged him out of the way, pulling the contraption from his pocket and chucking it on the floor when it failed to work. "We'll just have to wait. See if it opens later, and find out if there's another exit."

"Do we... talk to the other... the other Doctors?" Dean tried to word his question correctly.

"Something doesn't seem right. If I was here, I would have remembered. My past self- the one with the woman over there- would have remembered too, and both of us would have avoided coming here like the plague. I... I guess we have to talk to them."

...

The Doctor wandered over to the pair, his eyes fixated on the woman. Glorious, glorious Donna. He bit his lip, trying to control his delight in being able to see her again. He fought the urge to shove his hands around her and hug her until the end of the world, but he realised that that might have been a little strange, so instead he cleared his throat, making himself heard.

"Well isn't this strange?" he smiled at his old self.

"This..." the man in the brown trench coat laughed. "I'm not even sure how to reply."

"I'm The Doctor," he introduced himself.

"Well... So am I."

"Hello there, Doctor."

"One of us has to leave," the older Doctor spoke bluntly. "It's too dangerous."

"Well we can't."

"What do you mean we can't?"

"Door won't open."

"Sonic it."

"Don't you think I've already tried that?"

"Have you tried ramming it down?"

"I think you'd have heard if I had."

"Well you should. Clearly that bow tie is cutting off the supply of oxygen to your brain."

"Hey! Bow ties are cool!"

They stood in silence for a minute, observing their surroundings. There was something they both had missed. Something they most definitely shouldn't have missed. Something the should have been practically impossible to miss.

"This isn't a restaurant," Donna blurted out. "How could we not notice that this isn't a restaurant?"

"But of course it's a-" the younger Doctor "Of course! It's a perception filter. Making us think we're in a cosy little restaurant with stale food when we're actually in-"

"A prison," the other Doctor finished his sentence.

"I'm hearing all this talk about 'Doctors' and 'perception filters," the man on the other side of the restaurant in the leather jacket had walked over, a grin spreading across his face. "Mind if I join in?"

"Were my ears ever that big?" The Doctor wearing a trench coat raised his hand to his ears.

"Excuse me, these are my ears not yours," a smile filled his lips as he looked at the two men. "I'm...not even sure what's going on here."

"Well," Donna took it upon herself to explain. "You're The Doctor, he's The Doctor and he's-"

"We're all The Doctor!" he laughed. "Sorry, um... So this face will become that face and then... that face?"

"Basically, yes."

"This could get confusing. We can't all call ourself The Doctor."

"We should name ourselves by what incarnation of The Doctor we," the oldest Doctor explained. "Nine, Ten, Eleven."

"Can we get back to the part where this isn't a restaurant?" Donna expressed her concern as she observed her surroundings.

...

Instead of being in the restaurant, they'd actually found themselves in a completely different kind of room. On the right, there were rows of cells, identifiable by the rusting iron bars of the gates. At the end of the room where the large group from the TARDIS had been standing, the large white door -which looked like it was made of wood, but was actually a metal sliding door- slightly resembling the one from the restaurant that had refused to open occupied the wall, held shut by an electrical lock. The three Doctors and Donna stood at the other side of the room, the counter of the restaurant having been replaced by another door, this time made of metal and bolted shut.

Still shivering with nerves, most of them hadn't bothered to check if the cells were empty. Arthur, the boy-who at this point seemed like nothing more than a troubled little kid- proved to be more perceptive than the others had first thought, as he noticed the woman sitting in the furthest corner of the twenty or so tiny little cages.

"Mum!" he called out as he darted across to the side that the three Doctors stood as they tried to make sense of what was happening.


	30. Guilt

"Arthur, there's nobody there," Amy stated calmly as she wandered over, placing a comforting hand on the boys shoulder.

"But... She's there! I see her there!" his voice heightened as he stared at the sobbing woman shoved in the back of the cell. "She's right there!"

"I see Sam," Dean walked across, peering through the rusty iron bars to see his brother. "Why can I see Sam?"

"Hallucinogenic gas," Ten stared at them, and then towards the blond woman he saw inside the cell, battering her fist against the three walls and the gate. "Or another perception filter..."

"Or you're all just going nuts," Nine glared towards the cage.

They just stood and stared for a moment, watching their own personal demons linger in the cage, basking in their own terror. Dean's eyes fixated towards the back of the cell, wincing as the guilt crept over his shoulders and burdened him with its load. His brother was sat there, somehow managing to look both young and old as he stared at him, his eyes piercing into Dean as they looked for him to help. Screaming in pain, he clutched his head in his hands, as the monster lunged towards Dean, stabbing him right in the heart. There wouldn't be one moment in his life where he didn't feel at least a little bit responsible for anything that had happened to Sam: the shtriga when they were children, every wound that had ever tainted his brother's skin, even the not so visible wounds that resided in Sam's mind made Dean feel liable.

For the three Doctors the cage was full; the guilt diffused through the tiny claustrophobic little room. Whilst Nine only saw the lives devastated by the time war, both Ten and Eleven could see the blond haired Rose desperately screaming for The Doctor, and the sad untruthful smile that filled Martha's face. Yet it was Eleven whose guilt rose above the rest, with the additions of poor Donna robbed of her memories, and Amy and Rory, whose ordinary lives had been torn apart by his selfishness.

"Guilt," Nine broke the silence. "Whatever it is, it's showing us our regrets, our mistakes, people that have been left behind."

"And we know this because?" Amy challenged him.

"Well that's what I see," he shrugged. "We haven't met before. I'm The Doctor."

"I guessed," Amy scoffed, still not trusting of the unfamiliar men. "Amy Pond."

The rest of the group introduced themselves, their eyes still switching back to the cell as they spoke.

...

Not wanting it to seem like he'd overstayed his welcome, Sam told Molly that he'd leave later on that day. It wasn't exactly what he wanted to do- 221B was lonely, and there was something unnerving about the skull that occupied the mantelpiece, and he always felt like he was invading whenever he was staying in Rory and Amy's house- but he felt guilty taking food from her fridge and taking over her couch.

"Don't be silly," she waved his concerns off. "I like having you here. You're good company."

"Are you sure?" he asked. "I don't want to be inva-"

"Sam," Molly laughed gently. "I love having you here, and I don't know how you can bear sleeping in 221B... It creeps me out a little."

"Sorry, just... I'm really grateful for you letting me stay here. Is Lestrade okay? I heard you talking to someone on the phone last night..."

"Fine. Donovan just couldn't get a hold of him because his phone was turned off."

"That's great..."

"Hmm?"

"Oh, it's nothing."

...

The guilt multiplied, splitting and doubling as it spread throughout all of them, infecting them and making them fall victim to the crippling consequences. Trying to stop his hand from shaking as he watched his brother as a kid sobbing, Dean swallowed down the thick ball of anxious nausea that coated his throat and tried to get everyone to stop focusing on the hallucination, and instead figure out how on earth they were going to get out of there.

Jack, Sherlock, John and Amy, who seemed to be the least affected by the hallucination, filled most of the conversation. Jack and Amy fervently made suggestions and with a glance around the room, the consulting detective was observing the strange door they must have walked through.

"It's controlled by a keypad," Sherlock's eyes widened as he examined the device. "There's no visible fingerprints. There's no way to tell what the code is from what numbers have been pressed."

"So there's no way out?" John queried, looking at his friend for an answer.

"There's a way out; the problem is that we can't use it."

It was as if order had shifted. The Doctor- in all three incarnations- would be looked to as the one in charge. Yet now he was too emotional; affected too much by the burning self hatred that tore at his hearts. Dean and Rory, who would so often contribute solutions to any problems that arose had been eerily silenced by the lingering bacteria that filled the cell and seeped into their conscious thought. Amy watched her husband as he bit his lip, his out of character behaviour proving to be extremely unnerving for her. Rory wasn't the kind to feel guilty; he didn't exactly have much to feel guilty about in the first place.

"Rory?" she whispered, realising that trying to escape was a lost cause.

He remained silent, just staring at her looking for some sort of relief in her glance. Vulnerable and tired looking, he wandered over. She pulled him tightly towards her and sighed as he sought comfort in the embrace.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled into her shoulder.

"What the hell do you have to be sorry for?" she shrugged off the unnecessary apology.

He glanced over Amy's shoulder towards the three Doctors, and then towards the burning Doctor behind the iron bars and winced as his piercing scream for help ran through his ears.

"Just...sorry."


	31. Fate

**I'm sorry. I really am. Prepare for an attack in the feels. (Also, the dialogue of the scene used obviously wasn't written by me- do I really have to put a disclaimer?)**

The hallucination seemed to wear off after half an hour of complete and utter silence. The gas or whatever had caused it must have been in short supply, or not as effective as it needed to be; either way, the guilt bubbling in the cage had been replaced with a comforting emptiness. Of course, the guilt still felt clear in their minds; the hallucinogenic whatever it was hadn't created their remorse, it had merely just amplified it in front of him.

"I've heard about this place," Christine muttered. "They told us about it in school last year."

"What is it?" Nine asked. "What is this place, Christine?"

"It's a prison,"

"Yes, I think he means what is it used for?" Sherlock sighed.

"Trespassers, mostly," she began to explain. "Those who enter the town without going through the obligatory checks which we were meant to lead you to before the alarm went off. Josh must have snitched."

"But we voluntarily walked in to that restaurant?" Rory pondered.

"Perception filter," Eleven explained, patting his friend on the shoulder. "Are you alright, Pond? You're looking a bit... wibbly wobbly."

"Guess I just have a lot on my mind," he smirked half-heartedly, turning away from The Doctor's disheartening glare.

"So how do we get out?" Ten pulled out his screwdriver, waving the blue light around the room.

"If we can even get out..." John peered over Sherlock's shoulder to take a look at the keypad.

"We better bloody be able to get out," Arthur scoffed nervously, his hands shaking with anxiety.

"Arthur, we're going to get out of here," Dean pulled the teenager to the side. "Whether we have to ram down these walls or rip apart that door, we're going to get out here, okay?"

"Someone will probably come," Christine suggested. "A guard. Haven't you noticed? We're not in the cells yet. If we were really a threat to them, they'd have locked us up already."

"I've taught you well," Jack grinned, patting the girl's shoulder. "You're completely right. No prison is complete without a couple of good looking guards."

Almost as if she'd predicted the occurrence, two men sauntered in, costumed in pristine black suits and crisp white shirts. '_Ooh, classy policemen' _Jack thought inside his head. Once Ten had noticed the flirty grin spreading across his friend's face, he did what he saw fit and hit the man playfully in the chest, whispering a jovial 'stop it'. The playfulness was brought to a halt when the tallest of the two men cleared his throat loudly and took a couple of steps towards them.

"Hands above your heads!" the volume of the man's voice made it obvious why the man didn't need the threat of a weapon. "Fell for the perception filter, did you? What kind of person is stupid enough to think that there's actually going to be a restaurant here, in Glasgow 2045?"

...

And suddenly it had grown warmer, as if every cold spot in the room had been replaced with little fires. At first, the rise in temperature seemed welcoming to Sam, as if the new found comfort in Molly had replaced his uneasiness about everything that was going on, but as the room grew warmer, and the fires grew taller, he realised that this reassurance was going to be short lived.

"Sam?" he heard Molly in the distance as he found himself staring at the floor. "Oh god, we really need to cool you down..."

This time, the pain hadn't limited itself to his labyrinth of a head; it spread like a virus, hijacking every single cell in his body as it forced him onto the floor. His entire torso felt like someone had set it alight, and his legs felt as if all the muscles had been replaced by cotton wool.

...

_"Just keep your eyes on that!" Rory screamed in Amy's direction as he staggered over to the edge of the wall._

_"Is there a way down?" Amy sounded doubtful, as she stared up at the giant statue in front of her.  
_

_"Uh...no..." cars drifted past; if the fall didn't kill them, the vehicles most definitely would. "But there's a way out."_

_The sound of his footsteps changed, and Amy could hear the sound of her husband's jeans brushing against the edge of the roof. She didn't want to turn round, partly because the statue might have moved forward, and partly because she wasn't sure if she could bear the sight of Rory jumping to his death. He hauled himself up onto the edge of the building, his back turned against his almost definite death._

_"What are you doing?" she knew, but felt obliged to ensure that her concerns were rightfully placed. "Rory, what are you doing!?"_

_Her head flipped around, letting her fiery red hair flicker around her neck as she watched her husband prepare to hurl himself onto the ground. Swallowing down the nausea, Amy took a few steps closer towards him, her hands shaking desperately._

_"Rory... Stop it you'll die!" the simplicity of her words ran through his veins. _

_"Yeah, twice," he mumbled anxiously. "In the same building, on the same night. Who else could do that?"_

_"Just come down, please?" she pleaded._

_"This is the right thing to do..." he whispered, his bottom lip quivering. "This will work. If I die now, it's a paradox right? The paradox killed the angels. Tell me I'm wrong."_

_Amy just stared at him, speechless by the thought of her husband, sprawled out on the floor with blood oozing from every crushed organ in his broken body under the strain between the weight of the ground, and his shattered skeleton._

_"Go on, please, because I'm really scared!"_

_The silence filled the space between them again, tying together the couple's fate as if by rope and harness._

_"Great... The one time you can't manage it..." his voice broke as the realisation that he was talking about descending to his death hit him like a ton of bricks._

_His foot slipped, and the little anxious wobble threatened to send him off the building without a proper goodbye. His body shook with terror as he reached his hands out wide, searching for the reassurance from Amy's kind hands. _

_"Amy," he spoke in a matter-of-fact manner as he pulled Amy's hand towards his heart. "I'm going to need a little help here."_

_He held himself spread eagle in the air, his arms stretched out as far as they possibly could; the defining pose of sacrifice. _

_"Stop it!" Amy begged, clutching onto his shirt to try and steady his body. _

_"Just think it through, this will work, this will kill the angels."_

_"It'll kill you too!"_

_"Will it?" there was a spark of hope in his sigh. "River said this space would be erased from time, never existed! If this space never existed what did I fall off?" _

_"You think you'll just come back to life?"_

_"When don't I?" he laughed gently, his voice quavering with fear._

_"Rory...-" she gave in to the to the lump in her throat as she found it almost impossible to hold back the tears for much longer._

_"Any anyway what else is there?" Rory had begun crying too, his voice heightening as the emotion rose from his chest. "Dying of old age downstairs, never seeing you again? Amy, please. If you love me...Then trust me. And push."_

_"I can't..." she spoke soundlessly._

_"You have to!" his scream drowned out her whisper._

_"Could you?" she stared into his eyes, feeling sick with worry. "If it was me could you do it?"_

_"To save you," he looked down at her for a moment. "I could do anything..."_

_A tear trickled down her cheek as she clambered up onto the ledge beside him. His head fell into his palms as he realised what she was trying to do, although he had to remember to steady himself. He reached out his hands towards Amy, who grasped them tightly in her own._

_"Prove it," her voice was steadier, as if the sudden rush of adrenaline had provided her with just a little bit more optimism._

_"I can't take you too!" he pleaded._

_"You said we'd come back to life! Money where you mouth is, this time."_

_"Amy-"_

_"Shut up," she moved his hands onto her waist and wrapped her own around his. "Together, or not at all."_

_The Doctor's screams of 'what the hell are you doing?' are distant._

_"Changing the future," Amy stated calmly. "It's called marriage."_

_And they fell, letting the Earth pull them closer and closer towards the ground. The Doctor screamed their names, but their ultimate fate had been met._

_..._

__"Sam," Molly knelt down beside the lump of a man. "What the hell was that? Tell me what's going on!"

"I-..." he found himself inarticulate in expressing his distress. "I need a minute, Mol."


	32. Police

**I now realise that the way I'm describing the silence 'hugging' Sam and Molly makes it sound like there's a member of the Silence who ships Sam and Molly(SILENCE HAVE OTPS TOO YOU KNOW) and just wants to get them together but hey, it adds to the story, don't you think?**

* * *

"Come on, this is the second time you've blacked out..." Molly reached for Sam's hand. "Can you explain once you've pulled yourself together?"

"Of course I will," he sighed as she helped him up onto the sofa, groaning as a wave of nausea passed through him.

"Feel free to vomit on the rug. I've been meaning to buy a new one this week. Would you like a glass of water?"

"M'fine, thanks," he laughed, realising he'd still not let his grasp of Molly's hand slip. "Time to explain myself, I guess."

"As long as it's not invasive-" she went to protest, but Sam interrupted.

"It's fine."

"Alright then, go on."

"My life is crazy Mol," he chuckled gently. "Basically, when I've blacked out, I've seen things that are probably going to happen at some point in the future. I'm not going to go into explaining why, as I hardly even know. Remember the first time we met? When I came along with my brother, the strange doctor and Sherlock and John? They're sorting it all out. They're off saving the world. Again."

"Why didn't you go with them?" it seems like the most simple question, but it Sam was stooped.

"I'm not sure. I'm glad I didn't though. Here... I'm doing the exact same thing I used to do with Dean back in America, but here I can still feel normal. Like I've got a slice of the apple pie life along with the hunting. It's the best of both worlds."

"Alright, calm down Hannah Montana. No need to get sentimental," she smiled genuinely, their fingers still touching. "Oops, sorry."

And he just stared at her, as if the world had stopped for a second, and their hearts were the only two beating together. He eventually spread his lips into a smile, their hands still clutched together as if they didn't want to let go. Despite the pounding headache, which was a repercussion of the waking visions, Sam felt like he was flying. He grinned at the floor, not having felt like this since all those years ago when he first met Jess. Molly reacted with a mirroring smile, for once feeling like she'd found someone she actually got on well with, as opposed to people like shifty little Jim from IT who turned out to be Britain's biggest criminal mastermind.

"Thanks for um..." Sam laughed, looking away for a second. "Making me feel normal."

"No problem," she stroked the back of his hand.

The silence had filled the room again; that same comforting silence that had hugged them before their dinner date. It lingered around their intertwined fingers, lacing around their wrists and amplifying the warmth that radiated from the two of them. It spoke the words that didn't need saying, as it pulled them closer and closer until their lips had touched.

...

"Don't move," one of the men in suits exclaimed. "Move and I have the legal obligation to punish you for your actions."

"Who are you?" Donna -who still held his hands above his head- asked assertively.

"Police department for this area," the quieter man explained politely. "This is Officer Allan, and I'm Officer McNeil."

"Captain Jack Harkness," there was something about the way he said it- it almost sounded genuine, apart from a little hint of sarcasm- that made the group applaud him mentally.

"Don't flirt with me, boy," Officer Allan glared at him.

"Do you understand how much trouble you are in just for being in the company of this man?" McNeil pointed towards the three Doctors. "This man is the most dangerous man in the universe. The biggest threat to life that has ever existed."

"You have no idea what is going to happen to you," Allan stared at Donna, Rory and Amy. "The kids are taught about him in school. They've learnt about the people he's travelled with. The lives he's ruined and warped and changed!"

"You're just bitter," Amy hissed towards him. "Bitter that the government in power is so corrupt-"

"Excuse me? Howell's the best prime minister Britain's had for decades. The Gallifreyan Party have fixed this country, young lady, not tainted it."

"Oh yeah, because making it socially acceptable for parents to hate their children just because they don't have any sign of Time Lord genes in their genetic make up is a perfectly acceptable way of running the country, is it?" Arthur snapped, glaring at the man as tears threatened to spill down his cheeks. "My mum drinks to this man. She drinks to that tiny little bit of hope that _just maybe _this magical Timelord would rise from the dead and save us all from this awful world."

"It's politics, kid,"

"Bu-"

"Redheads, tall guy and his short friend, flirt, other guy and the two kids?" Allan pointed to them and then signalled towards the row of cells "Welcome to your new home! Well, for the next few days whilst we run a few tests to make sure

"And the other four shall follow me into our more secure cells in due course," McNeil- who was arguably the nicer of the two- explained calmly.

"And why's that?" Nine asked.

"We suspect that you four are more of a threat."

"Rory? A threat?" Amy scoffed. "He's about as threatening as a puppy."

"Er, thanks?" Rory raised his eyebrow.

"We've been running a few scans during your time here," McNeil proceeded to explain. "This man has registered as a threat on our database."

"Rory? But he's harmless!" Amy exclaimed.

"Again, thanks!" Rory flung his hands in the air.

"Oh, you know what I mean, stupid face."


	33. Cells

The 'secure' cells weren't much different to the other cells, apart from the fact that the guards in charge seemed a little less complacent, and a little less like they'd been found in the streets, chucked into monkey suits and forced to work in a prison, and more like they'd actually had some sort of training. There were more of them too, dressed in even more professional looking suits than Allan and McNeil and seemed to know how to hold themselves better.

Clearly, there weren't many trespassers, seeing as apart from the group, there were no other prisoners in the cells in either area. The three Doctors settled back into the little ledges at the back of their cells and looked at each other, trying to digest the fact that they were staring themselves in the face. Rory, however, only saw three men, and while he knew that all three of them were the same man, the eleventh incarnation would be the only one he trusted. '_False placing of trust' _he'd tell him, but Rory didn't care. Nine was too uncanny a ratio of normal to alien, whilst Ten's clever smile unsettled him a little. Of course, his bumbling idiot of a Doctor wasn't much better, but hey, familiarity was his best friend. He looked at him, searching for at least a little ounce of reassurance.

"You're looking a little pale there Rory, you alright?" Nine had his face pressed between two of the bars, peeking through Ten and Eleven's cells into Rory's. "Not the 'behind bars' type, are you?"

"It's just..." he stared at the floor, laughing nervously. "I'm a threat?"

"You're one of the psychics," Eleven stated. "Of course they're going to think you're a threat."

"Any bets they're going to fill this place with hallucinogenic gas any time soon?"

...

"Shit," Arthur mumbled, in obvious distress as he pressed his fingers pressed against the iron bars. "No...No..."

"Look, it's okay Arthur," Dean, who was in the cell beside him, sighed. "You really think these cells can hold _us_? I'm pretty sure we can all pick a lock here, yes?"

"And hey look, McNeil and Allan have left," Captain Jack grinned. "Shame, really."

"Don't worry," Donna- who was on the other side of Arthur- smiled. "I mean, Sherlock's already broken out of his cell."

"Just... get me out?" the kid stared at the tall man, who was busy working his way down the line and picking each lock.

"Ok," he smiled, showing true compassion for what seemed like the first time in his life, skipping the others to let Arthur out first.

Staggering out of their cells as if they'd been deprived of oxygen in them, they sighed with relief as the freedom rushed through them. Sherlock was getting to work trying to figure out the pass code to open the door, analysing the worn out digits. Obviously, the order seemed like it would be difficult to work out, but once he realised that the first four digits were the ones that were being used, he caught on to the fact that McNeil or Allan or one of the other not so experienced officers must have set it and that the code was simply '1234'.

The door opened on to a corridor, with two different ways to turn. The group stopped for a moment, letting the dark brown walls close in on them as they tried to decide which way they should go. They turned right, with the intention to turn the other way should they have taken the wrong path and again, they came to another diverted corridor.

"Brilliant!" Donna laughed sarcastically. "It's a maze!"

They turned left this time, onto another corridor of dark walls, but this time they only had the option to turn left again, which brought them onto another long stretching corridor. The green carpet seemed to spread for miles and miles, and the room was so long that they couldn't even identify the ambiguous end of the hall. They had no other choice but to follow the path, although it seemed like it was never going to end.

...

Rory could feel the lingering headache sneaking around behind him, hitting him whenever he turned his head. He ignored the three Doctors speaking, trying to figure out what timelines they were running on without giving any spoilers away. Afraid that a vision was coming on, he decided that it would be a better idea to sleep and see it as a dream, rather than having his head feel like it was going to explode. He settled down onto the ledge in his cell, resting his head against the concrete.

"So it's just after the time war, yes?" Ten asked Nine. "You haven't met...- Of course you haven't."

"Yup," the other two watched his face drop slightly. "I'll shut my big ears now, and let you two figure out whereabouts in time you are."

"So you're travelling with Donna?" Eleven tried to deduct Ten's timeline. "For how long?"

"Well, it's only been a wee while," Ten wondered. "We've done Pompeii, The Ood-sphere..."

"_And_ Rory's asleep," Nine stared, peering down towards the cell with his index finger ssti "Am I really that boring in the future?"

"Shush you," Ten laughed. "Let me guess, Eleven. He's a hard working companion, who tires himself out trying to help you save the universe?"

"Nah. He's just Rory," Eleven shrugged. "And he probably spends more time trying to save the universe from me, more than anyone else."

They sat in silence again, each of them staring at the floor, only changing their gaze to take a quick glance at the sleeping companion in the cell beside. They couldn't speak to each other; not properly, at least. It would be too dangerous. Inside their minds- or Ten and Eleven's at least- lay unhealthy secrets which would taint the tip of their tongues if they even dared to speak of them. Too much guilt sat with all three of them, with Eleven being ailed with the most extreme case. Speaking of the time war and of all the companions they'd lost along the way; it'd all just be too dangerous. Clearly, they weren't going to get out the prison any time soon. The Doctor was the most feared man in this timeline, and he was meant to be dead. Yet there he was, three times in fact, alive and mostly well, and most definitely a threat to them.


	34. Darkness

**About the spelling of 'Sulphur/Sulfur' in this chapter... I'm British and we use sulphur and I can't bring myself to write it with an f...**

Sherlock led the way down the long hall, the end of it seeming almost completely intangible as they trekked along. They'd tried turning back, but the room seemed to stretch into eternity in both directions now, and it seemed like their escape plan was slipping between their fingers. After what seemed like hours trying to get away from the corridor, they'd come to the conclusion that it was a lost cause. Slumping against the wall, Dean cursed the stupid never ending corridor and sighed.

"Well at least we're going to die in the most boring place you could ever think of?" Amy laughed half-heartedly. "It's just another perception filter or hallucinogenic gas again."

"Hallucinogenic gas," Sherlock sniffed the air deeply. "Can't you smell it?"

"Uh, I'm only really used to smelling pie, burgers and sulphur these days, Sherlock," Dean smiled sarcastically. "Of course we can smell it, you son of a bitch!"

"We'll just have to wait it out," John added. "Wait until it wears off, I guess."

They kept still for a moment, their heads all turning to watch the hall, waiting to see if it would revert back to the room they were actually standing in. John and Amy found themselves staring along down the hall, anticipating for the floor to shrink and pull itself towards them, so that the door was within tangible reach. Sherlock, knowing that the hall wasn't going to change its appearance for a while, stood back and watched the rest of the group naively try to predict when they'd be able to actually get out.

_Bang._

Suddenly, the group was surrounded with darkness; not one of them could even see their own hands in front of their face, let alone be able to see where they were going. John- being the type to reason and take hold of a situation- reached around to try and source out one of his peers. He found Sherlock's shoulder and clutched onto it, trying to find his footing in the dark corridor.

"What was that?" Christine's voice quivered.

"We need to stick together," John spoke above everyone else, trying to get their attention. "Everybody clutch onto each others' hands and make a chain. That way we can't lose anyone."

John moved his hand to meet with Sherlock's, while Sherlock grasped onto Donna's and the clutching of hands was passed down onto Arthur, then Christine, then Jack, then Amy with Dean at the end. They'd finally come to the conclusion that sitting down on the floor would be the best option, and then that way they couldn't lose anyone, but even still, not one of them let their grip on the hands go. The uncertainty of their ambiguous surroundings held the sensible anxiety firm in their minds, cementing the completely rational fear of the dark into their heads.

Amy slumped further down the wall, her hands shaking a little as she tried to keep herself calm. The empty space where Rory belonged had expanded, filling every little nook and cranny between them. She couldn't help but shake her concern for Rory. She tried to convince herself that he was fine; that he was taking everything in his stride. Yet the thought of his hallucination that morning had shaken her, and it was difficult not to let herself be worried about it.

"You're shaking like a leaf there, Amy!" Dean sighed with concern. "Y'okay?"

"This vision thing with Rory..." she mumbled. "It's freaking me out."

"Y'should've seen Sam before," he continued. "It was horrib- And I'm not going to be of much help, am I?"

"No. You're not."

"Rory's tough. Sammy-... Sam's... It's been our whole life, Amy. We're oceans away from being normal people... Rory-... He's ordinary."

Dean's words did nothing to quench the thick pit of anxiety that filled her stomach. Dean was right. Rory was ordinary. Yet that's what scared her so much. Normal little Rory being burdened with what must have felt like the weight of the one of them knew the full extent of Rory's issues, though. The thought of The Doctor's fate would sent his stomach into a fit of nausea and he secret sat on the end of his tongue, desperately waiting to be spoken aloud. He had other secrets too, like the unsettling premonition of Sherlock's _true _and hopefully fortunate fate. Ordinary little Rory Williams; the man with the secrets.

...

"So what did you see?" Molly sunk back into the sofa with a cup of tea, having just arrived home from working at the mortuary. "The last time you blacked out, what was it that happened?"

"D'you mind if we don't talk about it?" Sam uttered quickly, his words merging together a little. "How was work?"

"Dead people aren't that exciting, Sammy."

"Believe me, I know," the image of his latest premonition filled his mind and churned his stomach.

...

"Eleven?" Nine's head peeked through the bars again. "I think you better check on your companion, there. He's been sleeping for a while."

"Rory?" Eleven turned his head and whispered quietly, before raising his voice. "Rory, are you awake?"

_Silence._

"Rory?" Ten spoke a bit louder. "Eleven, check if he's breathing."

"We've sedated him," one of the guards spoke up. "We're running a couple of tests to try and find the source of the strange Gallifreyan signals he's giving off."

"Tests?" Ten's eyebrow shot up.

"Just a few DNA tests, don't you worry," another guard said. "We're just waiting on the equipment, and then we can get started.

"If you don't watch your mouths we'll fill the cells with hallucinogenic gas, so don't say we didn't warn you."


	35. Escape

A female guard who clearly had more authority than the few that were already there joined the other guards outside the cells carrying a bag of whatever equipment they were going to use on Rory. The three Doctors curiously watched her with suspicion as she let herself into Rory's cell and checked his vitals.

"This won't hurt a bit," she said, although he couldn't hear her. "Just taking a bit of blood to check your DNA."

She'd summoned a needle from her bag, and prepared it carefully. With no warning, she shoved it into the man's shoulder whose non-existent response was unsettling. With the 2045 technology found in the bag, she placed the blood sample into something that looked a bit like a laptop and waited for a moment.

"No..." She stared at the screen. "No Gallifreyan DNA."

"But the sensors are picking up the signals, Jen!" one of the guards argued.

"I told you! He's not even a bit Gallifreyan, George!"

"Psychic signals, it must be then. This lot are time travellers, right? He must be one of the 'children of Gallifrey'."

"Any bets he's going to rebel?" another one of the guards piped in as he looked at his watch. "Hey, that's lunch. Surely we can leave? These cells are secure enough to hold them, and they're a man down..."

"You're not obliged to stay here!" Jen explained, locking Rory's cell and going to leave. "The cells will hold."

And then they were alone, filled with the overwhelming temptation to try and pick the locks, or something. Thankfully, the guards within the prison seemed to have made a few vital errors, leaving the three Doctors with their most treasured of tools. Eleven twirled his sonic screwdriver between his fingers and cracked open the iron door, smiling as the other two doctors had the same idea. Even the most secure cells in the building couldn't hold them. They all stared at Rory for a moment before allowing the eleventh Doctor to open his cell, anticipating for him to jump up and proceed as if nothing had happened, yet he stayed still, barely moving a muscle. Trying to wake him soon became a lost cause, and with the threat of the guards returning looming over them, they didn't have time to wait for Rory to wake up by himself, so Eleven was given the task of carrying him out.

"Now to find the others?" Ten looked to Nine and Eleven as soon as they'd got away from the room with the cells, arriving in the opening of a corridor.

"Rory still has his phone," Eleven explained, proceeding to rest Rory's body against the wall. "I've fixed it so they still can be used wherever we are, provided we're a certain distance from the TARDIS."

Eleven tapped in Amy's number, whilst Nine and Ten tended to the task of checking Rory's vital signs. The phone barely had time to ring before Amy answered, the concern seeping through her voice. Eleven put the phone on speaker phone so Nine and Ten could also hear, and contribute to the conversation if they had to.

"Amy," he sighed into the phone, happy to have got away.

"Doctor?" she answered. "Did you manage to escape?"

"Yes." he spoke calmly. "Where are you?"

"We're... not sure."

"How can you not be sure? You escaped, didn't you?"

"We escaped, but the hallucinogenic gas must have leaked into the corridor or something. It made us think one of the corridors was never-ending, and now it's so dark we can't see anything."

"Wait..." Eleven stopped to think for a second. "Retrace your steps. Get back to the start of the corridor if you can, and then pass the phone to Sherlock."

"We can't get back-... The corridor just stretches both ways."

"It's dark. The hallucinogenic gas affects what you think by altering what you see, and you can't see can you?" Ten added.

"Now pass the phone to Sherlock."

After a moment, Sherlock's voice replied- "Hello."

"Can you remember which paths you followed to get to where Amy described as the never-ending corridor?"

"Yes."

"Go back there," apart from a few questions concerning everyone's well-being, the group stayed silent until they reached their destination.

"We're here."

"Do you remember the path we followed to get to the 'restaurant'?" a more difficult question of course, but Eleven had no doubts about Sherlock's brilliance.

"Yes. Yes I do."

"Follow it. We must have walked through the corridor when we thought we were following the street."

"We're on our way out. I can see light."

"Good. We'll try and follow behind," and Sherlock had hung up, leaving the three Doctors on their own.

The Doctors' selection of corridors seemed to be a lot less complicated, and after a few turns left and a turn or two to the right, they'd found the other half of the group standing around the exit door. Rory was still in the eleventh Doctor's arms, slowing him down a little behind the Ninth and Tenth.

"We had to wait," Dean explained to Nine and Ten, who'd arrived quite a bit before the other two. "Door is locked, so we needed the sonic screwdriver. And as you can probably tell, it's not dark any more."

"Where's the others?" Jack asked.

"Just following behind. The guards were running a few DNA scans on Rory, and he's still out of it. Eleven had to carry him," and with the mention of Rory, Amy ran to meet up with the other two.

"Don't you think this place is a little...corrupt for a police facility?" John voiced his opinion as they waited for the others to catch up. "It really shouldn't be legal for them to gas us with hallucinogens."

"It really shouldn't be legal for Anderson to work with Scotland Yard, John, but he's still there, isn't he?" Sherlock replied happily. "But yes, it seems a little suspicious."

"Who says it's the police?" Christine shrugged. "I know I said this place was probably where they hold trespassers, and they all look like they have authority, but maybe this isn't where I thought it was?"

_Bang!_

The groups spent a while fighting off the confusing black out that had filled their minds, before finding themselves to be split up. Christine, Arthur and Jack were nowhere to be seen, Nine and Ten found themselves in their respective TARDISes, and the rest of them were sent back into the control room of Eleventh. It was as if a whole section of their day had been removed from their mind; as if they hadn't met the three children or Jack or the other two Doctors, and hadn't been placed inside the prison. Rory still lay unconscious on the ground, yet the others in the group hadn't taken notice automatically as they tried to piece together the non-existent memories from just hours and minutes before. John was the first person to realise, and once the others realised that their friend was in safe hands, they went back to trying to decipher what had just happened.

"I..." Amy tried to articulate what she felt. "I feel like... We've been somewhere, but I can't even remember where we were."

"I completely understand," The Doctor held his head in his hand.

Rory started to come to, opening his eyes tiredly and not even making the attempt to sit up.

"What happened?" he croaked, his throat feeling extremely dry.

"Not one of us can remember what has happened today," Dean explained with a grunt. "Time's passed but it feels like we've just arrived wherever the TARDIS is at the moment."

"We..." Rory could remember being in the cells, yet he wasn't sure if he wanted to speak up in case it had been a vision or hallucination. "I'm so confused."

Amy knelt down beside Rory, lending him her hand to help him sit up. Stroking his head, she asked if he knew why he'd been unconscious, her voice filled with concern. He shrugged, telling her that he was sure he just fell asleep before he rested his heavy head on her shoulder and sighed tiredly.

"So you have no idea, either?" She asked, just to make sure.

"Uh...Amy, I've kind of been unconscious for the past...god only knows how long," he shrugged. "I don't think I'm a very good source in finding out where the past five hours or so have gone."


	36. Tell

The Doctor scoped the room, watching the others yawn and rub their eyes with exhaustion. He could hear them complaining about the mind-boggling confusion that was ailing them, as they failed to come up with any idea about where they'd been. The decision to have a break was almost unanimous, so Amy and Rory offered to let them all stay at their house for the night. Dean had his fingers crossed that Sam would be there, but from what he'd heard from his brother, he'd spent most of his time in Baker Street, so his hopes weren't too high.

Much to Amy and Rory's delight, Sam had proved to be quite a tidy person, or at least he hadn't spent enough time in their house to make much of a mess. The only thing they really had to clean up was the fridge. They'd arrived two weeks later than originally planned, therefore the fridge was filled with milk that smelt like vomit and looked like one of Sherlock's experiments, and bubbling containers of old leftover curry.

"Shut the bloody fridge!" John exclaimed, covering his nose with his coat.

"Sam's not been here for weeks," Sherlock noted, flinching at the sight of the dirty plates piled up by the sink.

"Wow," Dean clapped slowly. "Awesome deduction, Sherlock."

"He's on a hunting trip," he stated, this time sparking a more impressive reaction from Dean.

"And how would you know that?"

"Well, having met Sam, he doesn't seem the type to leave all of these dishes to rot if he was going to go be staying at Baker Street for a while- he was called away quickly. The rest of the house is clean, and we know he spends more time in 221B than here. The only things he does in this house is sleep and eat while he's nearby, whilst he _lives _in Baker Street. Look at the cupboards; full. What's missing? Salt. There's no salt. No silverware in the drawers either. Silver kills a lot of things, doesn't it Dean?"

"Okay, so he's on a hunting trip," Dean shrugged. "Rory, clean out the fridge."

"Why me?" Rory questioned.

"It's your house, isn't it?"

"Can't we just go to Baker Street?" Amy flung her head back. "We wouldn't have to clean u-"

"No," John shook his head. "The flat's too small. I don't mind helping to tidy up, honestly. You lot go order some food in or something."

...

Whilst the rest of the group argued and laughed in the living room, Rory and John stayed behind in the kitchen to try and put a reign on the mess. John tended to the mouldy fridge, whilst Rory took charge of the pile of dishes waiting to be steeped in soapy water, the simple task acting as a distraction from the thoughts running through his head. He was the only one who could remember the two Doctors, and Donna, and Jack, Arthur and Christine. Had the prison just been a fragment of his imagination? He wasn't sure. It definitely seemed like part of his mind, with it's complex winding corridors which branched off in every direction, and the locked up cells in which secrets were kept.

"Alright?" John asked in a conversational tone.

"Yeah," Rory replied drearily as he rinsed out a glass and placed it to the side. "Crazy day, eh?"

"Oh, I know. I mean, time passed but I have no recollection of going anywhere."

"Ha," he choked out nervously. "Yeah."

"No, but truthfully are you okay? Before we... I don't even know any more. A little while ago you got really upset about something- everything is fine now, yes?"

"I guess," he shrugged, staying quiet as the tears threatened to spill.

"What's bothering you?" John's voice was sincere, yet Rory still didn't want to answer. "I won't tell others if you don't want to me to."

"Can you just-" Rory swallowed down the thick ball of dread that sat behind his throat. "Leave it? Please, John."

"Rory-"

"Leave me alone!" he chucked the plate he was washing back into the sink and staggered out of the room, seeking refuge in the TARDIS parked out in their back garden.

...

"Where's Rory?" Amy's head shot up as John walked back through to living room alone.

"Want's to be alone," John noted, taking a seat beside Sherlock on the couch. "He's in the TARDIS I think."

"I'll go ta-" Amy stood up, only to be interrupted.

"I'd leave him for a little bit. It was my fault. He just needs a minute or two to calm down."

"If he's not back in five minutes I'll go and have a word with him, okay?" Dean gave Amy a pat on the shoulder as he watched The Doctor's expression drop at the mention of Rory's state of mind.

As Dean had predicted, Rory didn't return within five minutes. It seemed like an eternity before Dean finally lifted himself off his chair to go and speak to the man, partially because he could feel Amy's glare drilling into his skin, and partially because of the unnerving frown that rested upon The Doctor's face at the thought of Rory. The room seemed to have been silenced by the news that something had upset their friend, and John felt the need to swallow down the guilt that bubbled in his stomach.

...

Rory stood by the control panel of the TARDIS, staring down at the complex mix of buttons and levers, dumbfounded by the thought that anybody would be able to fly it without crashing. He hunched over as he observed, crumbling under the weight of the world resting upon his shoulders. The Doctor was burning away in the corner again; a fuel that never seemed to diminish. Rory barely reacted. He'd seen the same hallucination what seemed like a million times.

"Rory!" He could hear Dean grunting from the other side of the locked TARDIS door. "Open the damn door would you? I'm freezing my ass off out here..."

"I'm fine," Rory stepped towards the door, watching the shadow of Dean's fist knocking against the windows.

"Never heard a bigger lie in my life. Now let me in, you son of a bitch!"

"No," he brushed his fingers against the lock, feeling the tears well up in his eyes.

"Rory, stop being a bitch and let me in."

"I... I-" Rory stared down at the lock, his fingers shaking as the overwhelming feeling of dread rushed over him.

"First things first, are you okay?" Dean's voice mellowed slightly, lowering his clenched fist away from the window.

"Yeah."

"Are you lying?"

"Of course I'm lying."

"Come on, let me in."

"Please, just leave me alone-"

"If you don't let me in, I'll go and get Amy. You don't want to talk to her about this, do you?"

"It's... I can't tell her what I'm upset about, but I don't think I could help myself from letting it spill out of my mouth."

"Rory, let me in," Dean rested his hand on the door handle. "Get whatever it is off your chest and I won't tell any of the rest of them if you don't want me to."

The door unlatched, opening a little as Rory let Dean in. Dean looked at Rory, letting him regain his dignity as he wiped away his tears and calmed himself down a little. He gave him as long as he needed, taking a seat on the steps leading to the other rooms and looking away.

"Okay, what is it?" Dean faced Rory, looking at him sympathetically.

"I..." he stared at the floor, his entire body shivering. "The Doctor..."

"What about The Doctor, Rory?"

"He's... There's no easy way to say this, so I'm sorry... The Doctor is dying."

"Wait, what?" Dean's voice amplified a little. "What's wrong with him? Is he sick?"

"He...didn't say exactly what. When we were in Apulapucia, something or someone there infected him with something. He said he's got months, Dean but he's refusing to go and treat himself."

"Why?"

"The Gallifreyans want him dead?" Rory shrugged. "If he doesn't die, maybe the whole Gallifreyan party takeover will be messed up or something, making everything worse?"

"Gallifreyan Party?" Dean raised an eyebrow, looking confused.

"I remember where we were today. I've been unconscious for a while- whatever made everyone forget didn't affect me because I was asleep."

"Shit, you really are the man with the secrets, aren't you?"

"Don't tell the others, Dean."

"Why not?"

"Amy won't rest until he treats himself. Trust me, it'll hinder our chances of stopping whatever is going on."


	37. Revelation

"Don't tell them," Rory repeated, his eyes gaping with desperation. "If you tell any of the others, I swear-"

"Sherlock probably already knows, Rory," Dean sighed, staring at Rory sympathetically. "Trust me, I won't tell them if you don't want me to- but they all know you're upset, and you're going to have to bluff it and come up with a lie they're going to believe."

"I..." he ran a hand through his head, his emotions rising in his chest. "I don't even know what to do..."

"Shit, this is really bothering you isn't it?"

"I don't want to throw all this onto you-"

"Dude, it's fine!" he grunted in response. "You think I haven't had to deal with worse having to cope with Sam? Just talk, seriously."

"Forget it," Rory flung his hands in the air. "I'm just a bit pissed off at The Doctor okay?

"Confront him? Anyway just tell the others you didn't feel well or something, and that's why you were a little edgy with John? They'll take whatever lie you throw them. Well, Sherlock won't..."

"And what if he speaks up, Dean? What if _he _confronts him in front of everyone?"

"He won't. And if he did, why would it be such a big deal?"

"Amy will not be happy when she finds out that I've kept something as... huge as this from her," Rory's hands shook, the thoughts racking his body as he threatened to explode. "And by not happy, I mean that I'll probably be dead before tomorrow."

"It's The Doctor she should be mad at, Rory!" Dean tried to coerce him into changing his mind. "It's that stubborn ass' fault! Just go in there and lie your little butt off. It'll be fine."

...

It was as if the answers to all of life's questions had stepped into the room with them. They stared at him, waiting for him to admit that he wasn't okay; but there wasn't even an utterance. Rory just stood, feeling the words crawl around his tonsils as he attempted to swallow them back to delay the explosion. Their eyes watched him as he took a few steps forward, opening wide at every quiver of his lips.

"I..." the sound of Rory's voice made them jolt.

"What's wrong, Rory?" Amy pressed, glaring at her husband.

"I just didn't feel well, okay?" his words were a little to quick for Amy's liking. "That's why I was off with you earlier, John. I just felt really bad, and I wasn't thinking straight."

"I don't believe you," Amy stared at him, her eyes widening with concern. "I want the truth."

"Um," Rory mumbled, his eyes drifting off in The Doctor's direction, seeing him clench his teeth in distress.

"Rory,_ please._"

"The Doctor's dying, okay?" and there was the explosion. "And he refuses to bloody cure himself, because he wants to be the huge big sacrifice in this war with Gallifrey, or whatever the hell this is!"

"Rory, I told you not to speak of thi-" The Doctor calmly looked at him as he spoke assertively.

"If I told you that you had to carry the world on your shoulders, do you really think you'd be expected to just sit down and accept it?!"

"Rory..-"

"This is your fault!"

"I'm so sorry, but Rory-"

"No, THIS IS YOUR FAULT!" he snapped, snarling with rage. "Explain yourself, Doctor. Tell them what's wrong with you. Tell them that you had no intention in telling them until now. Tell them that even though you knew I probably couldn't handle it, you still told me, and made me keep it to myself!"

"I can't believe you!" Amy flung her hands in the air with anger, edging closer towards the door. "Either of you! How could you keep the fact that he's going to _die _from us? Did it ever cross your stupid little minds that maybe it was something that we kind of needed to know?"

"Amy...-" Rory reached for her hand; for a little bit of reassurance.

"No..." she shoved his hand away, escaping the room to seek refuge in the TARDIS.

"I think you owe us an explanation, Doctor." John stated sensibly.

"I'm dying, yes," his voice was cold; almost emotionless. "Something I picked up in Apalapucia. And no, I'm not going to treat myself. And no, I cannot just regenerate. I'll be fine for a while, but in under a year, I'll probably be weak."

"Why don't you seem ill?" John observed.

"The disease is robbing me of my regenerative energy. It's gradual, and thankfully very slow. I'm begin to tire more easily, and I'm more vulnerable to illness because it takes longer to repair myself. For at least the next two or three months, I still need less sleep than all of you humans, and you're more likely to pick up things than I am- I just don't have my usual Time Lord capacity for these things."

"And why didn't you tell us?"

"You will want me to treat myself. I don't want to treat myself."

"Why not?"

"He feels like he has to die," Sherlock sighed quickly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "He's spent all this time trying to make himself believe that this is what he wants- to rid himself of another few hundred years travelling in his lonely blue box and breaking hearts- yet he can't seem to convince himself from steering away from the truth. He knows he's living on borrowed time yet deep down in his hearts he knows that what he really wants is to borrow more of it; to spend more time whisking ordinary little humans away to see extraordinary things. Ask yourself this, Doctor. What do you value more? Ridding the universe of the chaos and destruction you seem to cause, or providing the universe with the capacity for great things?"


	38. Discussion

**The 's' word is in this a lot, so if you're iffy with swears be warned, aha:) finally managed to introduce Brian into this, and about timelines, it's after Dinosaurs on a Spaceship.**

"I'm going to talk to Amy," Rory mumbled sheepishly, shying away from the eyes that followed him as he excused himself from the room.

"Have you been sleeping under a rock for the past week, or are you just heartless?" Dean hissed aggressively towards The Doctor. "Can't you see how much all that shit's messed him up?"

"I'm sorry-"

"Sorry? _Sorry? _You really think sorry's going to cover it?! The only person you've been thinking about is yourself- how bad you feel because _you're _guilty, how much you don't want to tell us because of the repercussions that will affect _you, _how you refuse to treat yourself because of how _you _feel!"

"It's complicated, Dean."

"_Complicated?! _What the hell is complicated about this? You're going to die, even though you don't even have to, and you would've happily ruined Rory's life had he not told us. Simple as pie."_  
_

"I hope you understand that I've felt terrible about what I've done to Rory-"

"Yeah, _you _felt terrible. It's all about how _you _feel, isn't it Doctor?"

The silence diffused through the room, seeping into every inch of the room. The Doctor clenched his fists, his mind a blank canvas on how to reply. Dean gritted his teeth, watching as the guilt spread across The Doctor's face. He went to speak, but after taking another glance at Dean's expression, his throat clenched shut, succumbing to the overwhelming silence that danced around him, taunting him and trying to push him into the corner.

...

"Amy!-" Rory burst through the doors of the TARDIS. "I'm so sorry..."

"Why do you have to be so stupid?" she shook her head, seeming to be more angry than upset.

"Please, just calm down..."

"He's dying Rory! Don't you think that's something we all ought to have known?"

"You're going to try and force him to treat himself, and he's going to get angry, and-"

"Is that what you think I'm going to do, Rory?! That's why you didn't tell me?" Amy stared at the floor, biting her lip. "I'm not the idiot you seem to take me for! I'm not going to try and argue with him- it's his choice, okay?"

"Amy, I don't think you're an idio-"

"Oh, so you think I'm too emotionally attached to him to make what you think is a _rational _decision, then?"

"Maybe because it's the truth! You'll end up pestering him every day about it, or guilt tripping him into making choices that he really doesn't want to make-"

"Do you hear yourself, Rory?" she stopped him from speaking, raising her voice. "You're actually alright with him letting himself die, even though he doesn't have to?"

"And you wonder why I didn't tell you!" his fingernails dug into his palms as he clenched his fists.

"Rory-"

"I'll go stay at my dad's tonight, okay?" his voice broke on the last word as he headed for the door. "We both need to calm down, and I really... I'm a mess."

"I'm sorry," Amy spoke after a moment of silence, having calmed down a little. "I'm just upset, and I'm angry and I'm taking it all out on you. I've just found out that my best friend is going to die- do you really expect me to be okay?"

"I need to clear my head," Rory was rambling now, his words colliding together.

"You don't have to stay at your dad's tonight."

"I want to, Amy. I feel like complete and utter shit, and he's always been the only one able to talk any sense into me," he laughed half heartedly, the tears welling in his eyes, edging closer towards his wife as she seemed to relax a little. "I'm scared, Amy. I'm shit scared."

"Hey, Hey, Hey!" she noticed the lump in his throat as it seeped into his every word. "There's no need to cry..."

"Can you give me a lift to my dad's?" she winced, noticing how much he sounded like the little kid she knew him as from childhood.

...

"You've reached Sam's voicemail, leave a message after the tone," the words rang through Dean's phone.

"Where the hell are you, Sammy?" he grumbled. "Call me back when you get this, okay?"

"Sam not answering his phone?" Amy entered the living room to collect her car keys.

"Nope," Dean chucked his phone onto the couch. "Where's Rory?"

"He's going to stay at his dad's tonight. He hasn't seen him for a while because we've been travelling... I'm just going to give him a lift."

...

"Where have you been for the last month or so?" Rory's father Brian laughed as he let his son in. "Away travelling with The Doctor again?"

"Yeah," Rory forced a smile. "Mind if I stay here tonight?"

"Everything's okay with you and Amy, isn't it? You're not fighting again?"

"We're fine," he stared at the floor, feeling his voice break with his words.

Brian remained silent, watching his son be reduced to a tiny little boy. His smile softened, and he placed a comforting hand on his son's shoulder as they sat on the sofa. It took everything he had to stop himself from breaking down at the sound of Rory's sobs, and even still, he almost burst into tears himself.

"Did something happen on your trip?"

"Kind of," his eyes drifted off, squinting at the sight of something unusual in the corner.

"What is it? What are you looking at?"

"Hmm?" Rory turned his head. "I wasn't looking at anything."

"You were looking at something over there!" Brian pointed to the empty corner. "What was there?"

"Okay," Rory wiped the tears from his eyes quickly, looking around for two pens. "Just as a precaution... If you see anything- a monster of some sort... mark your hand."

Ten minutes later, and their arms were littered with pen marks. Rory's eyes shifted throughout the room. Lifting the pen with his shaking fingers to the only free space on the back of his hand, he drew three lines beside his knuckles.

"What are they?" Brian found himself drawing another mark on his wrist. "Why can't I remember what they look like?"

"The Silence," Rory explained, taking note of the one he'd just noticed standing by the television. "They make you forget you ever saw them, but as long as we mark our arms, we know they're there and that we've just seen one."

"I prefer the sassy robots."

"Me too, Dad. Me too..."


	39. Silence

Rory didn't return the next morning. Brian didn't even answer any of their calls. By the afternoon, Amy had nothing but sympathy for Dean, who'd spent hours trying to get hold of Sam with little success. It was as if the two of them had been wiped off the face of the Earth, which, considering their luck in the past, didn't seem too far fetched. Dean gave up around the twelfth hour, having come to the conclusion that Sam probably wasn't going to answer.

"How about this?" Dean had grabbed Amy's laptop to try and distract himself, trying to find a case they could work on. "Bunch of kids have gone missing from a shit load of schools. Like... vanished. Completely gone."

"It's weird isn't it?" Sherlock rolled his eyes, unsure how the others hadn't cottoned onto it already. "Sam's missing. Rory's missing. All those children are missing..."

"Makes sense," Amy noted. "What ages are the kids that are missing?

"From about eight to... fifteen?" Dean showed her the article on the laptop. "We might as well check it out. Doc, you got any psychic paper in the TARDIS or something so we can get into one of the schools."

"Yes, yes I do." he added, pulling his coat back over his shoulders. "John, Sherlock... You two stay here, do a bit of research and wait to see if Sam and Rory show up. There'll be enough Jammie Dodgers and tea to keep you going in the kitchen..."

...

"Oh, how I've missed this car..." Amy smiled at the sight of Rory's little red Jaguar E-type sitting in front of the house.

"Rory's going to be okay with you driving this?" Dean's eyes scoped the car. "Heck, should this beauty of a car even be removed from the safety of this garage?"

"Thinking of cheating on your hunk of metal back in America, eh?"

"Take that back."

"Nope."

"The Impala is not a hunk of metal, Amy-"

"Dean, it's a car. Don't treat it like it has feelings."

"You do realise this car only has two seats?" The Doctor leant against it.

"Exactly why we're taking the Mini. Rory just keeps the spare keys to it in this car..."

...

"Hope you don't mind us stopping by to investigate for a little while, Mr Reed," The Doctor showed the headmaster of the school his psychic paper. "Exactly how many children have gone missing?"

"About a third of the students, and two of the teachers."

"The students missing... there hasn't been any instances where they've been acting strange at all?" Dean asked.

"A lot of the kids who are missing kept being absent, with headaches apparently, but you know what teenagers are like. Truanting isn't unusual."

"Can we investigate a couple of the classrooms?" Amy asked.

"Uh sure, you've got about fifteen minutes until the few kids that are left come back for class. Start with Chemistry first. It's probably the closest.

They wandered down the hall, Dean's eyes shifting uncomfortably at the unfamiliarity of being in a school. They were almost certain that the disappearances were due to the fact that they were psychics, but they knew it wouldn't hurt to test all of the options. As they stepped into the small little science classroom, Dean's nose shrivelled as the well known reek of rotten egg filled his nostrils.

"Sulphur," Dean's eyes drifted throughout the room, before focusing on the tiny spillage of the yellow powder on the floor. "It's demons, guys. Definitely demons."

"Um, Dean?" Amy pointed to the glass box-a fume hood- in the corner of the laboratory. "It's a chemistry classroom. Look inside the box. There's a jar of sulphur."

"Okay, it's not demons then. What are we even meant to be looking for, Doc?"

"Anything at all," The Doctor answered. "Any evidence that what has happened was caused by something other than the Gallifreyans."

Amy scoped the room, fixating on a little bit of paper that the teacher had confiscated. She unfolded it,discovering that it was a note which had been handed round the class, and read what it said aloud.

_-Is it just me, or did I see something just there? _

_-Just you. What did it look like?  
_

_-Can't remember. I just... Looked at something, looked away and I felt a little scared for no reason at all._

_-Totally understand what you mean now. Freaking out thanks to you. _

"Sound like anything familiar?" Amy raised her eyebrow, looking up from the piece of paper.

The words barely needed to be spoken aloud. The Doctor knew fine well what they were dealing with, although he had no memory of what they looked like, like the rest of the universe. It all made perfect sense. The children didn't vanish into thin air- it was just that nobody could remember how they were taken. The Doctor and Amy thought they'd never be confronted with the monsters again since the eye patches malfunctioned and The Doctor died, but they now had to grow to accept that maybe the religious order that The Silence were a based upon was something to do with Gallifreyans. Dean, thankfully, wasn't left in the dark due to his lack of knowledge, as Amy was quick to fill him in on what The Silence were, and what they did to your brain.

"How do you remember them, then?" Dean queried.

"We know what they are, through both word of mouth and being aware that something was around us," The Doctor began to explain. "If we feel that we may be surrounded by them, we mark our skin with pen when we see them, so we can remember that we've seen one."

"So the minute you look away from them you forget that you've seen one, right?"

"Yes."


	40. Missing

They weren't alone. They were never alone.

By the time they returned back to the flat, The Doctor had convinced them to keep watch. Unlike Rory and Brian, the group weren't covered head to toe in pen marks. Four or five marks were made on the back of their hands didn't seem to pose much of a threat.

"Do you think The Silence have taken them?" Amy asked, her eyes dancing around the room. "Sam and Rory, I mean?"

"I wouldn't be surprised if they've taken Brian too," The Doctor sighed uncomfortably. "The only think we can do is go over there and check. For all we know, they might just have been ignoring our calls..."

Dean watched the others thrust their attention onto Rory, clutching his phone in his hand and scrolling through to see if he'd missed a call from Sam. _Nothing. _He was tempted to chuck the phone at the wall, but something about the already concerned faces around the room convinced him to refrain from throwing the projectile. He wanted nothing more than to hear his brother's voice, to be reassured that he was alive and well.

"John? Sherlock?" he asked. "I want to see if anyone's seen Sammy. Have you got Lestrade's, Mycroft's or Molly's numbers?"

"Yes," John pulled his phone from his pocket. "All are on the contact list."

"Thanks."

...

"You have reached the voicemail of Greg Lestra-" Dean gave up on the third call, knowing the man was never going to answer as he moved on to trying to get hold of Molly. "God, is everyone missing in this bloody country?"

"Hello?" the voice rang through the phone."

"Uh, hey?" Dean laughed nervously.

"Who's calling?"

"It's Dean. Dean Winchester. Sam's brother?"

"Yes, I know who you are now. What's up?"

"I'm just wondering if you've seen Sam?"

"He left to get a few things from his other friend's flat yesterday, but he didn't come back. Is he missing?"

"We think so. What about Lestrade? Any idea where he is?"

"Didn't show up for work this morning, apparently, and he's not at home either."

"Just stay safe, Molly. We'll find Sam and Lestrade. Don't you worry.

...

Reality was slipping away, the gap in the fabric growing larger and larger as the threads tore apart. _"Look into it,"_ they had told them, with the unidentifiable forgettable monsters standing beside. _"Look into space and time."_

"Sam, don't look into it," he heard the familiar voice by his side. "I think I know what it is."

"What is it?" a grey haired man behind them overheard.

"Lestrade, you're safe..." Sam grinned, turning to greet his friend.

"Are you sure we're not dead?"

Aside from the safety of the group, the first volunteer had stood to follow the order. Within seconds, the man was on the floor, about to be pulled behind the black curtain, and despite the officials' secretive behaviour, the entire room knew the poor man's fate.

"They're only human!" under the silence of the watching crowd, one of the officials' angry whisper could be heard. "They can't handle that thing!"

"We have orders!" the other official hissed. "We'd be going against the Time Lords if we don't subject these people to to the Untempered Schism! Do you not understand how difficult has been for this to be replicated?"

"We're going to have a room full of dead bodies when we continue- _and that's just the adults! _What about when we're forcing eight year olds to stare into a relic which turned _Gallifreyans _mad!"

...

"Any luck?" Amy, who sat alone outside..

"Nope," Dean slid into the seat beside her, shoving his head into his hands. "Lestrade is missing too, and Molly hasn't seem Sam since yesterday."

Neither of them spoke a word, the empty space where Sam and Rory belonged growing larger and larger. Dean crossed his arms as he sighed, desperately searching for something to say.

"It's cold out," he finally spoke.

"You think I'm going back inside?" she managed to choke out a laugh. "The rest of them can run the risk of getting killed by The Silence, but I'm not taking any chances."

"Can't face The Doctor either, can you?"

"Could you, if it was Sam? He's my best friend- I just don't want him to die."

"It's months away, Amy."

"But now I know I can't help but notice that he's tiring easier, or that he's just that little bit slower-"

"Amy, he's fine. He's got months in him yet."

"And I took it all out on Rory and it's my fault he's mi-"

"No it's not. Those thingies would've taken him whether he was here, or at his dad's or wherever he was."

"But maybe we'd know where they'd taken-"

"We wouldn't. We'd have forgotten that they were even here," Dean sighed. "We can go inside, you know. The Doctor's away checking on Brian."

...

"No volunteers?" the official's voice was whiny, sounding like nails across a blackboard. "We'll just have to pick then, don't we?"

Sam's head flickered throughout the room, desperately hoping that he wouldn't be chosen. Rory shrivelled beside him, watching one of the mysterious monsters in a suit stalk around the crowd. Its hands finally clenched the collar of another man's shirt, dragging him up to the circular contraption. It wasn't until the man was placed in front of the machine that they noticed that it was Moriarty, grinning oddly at the floor and shaking away from the hands on his back. Rory could only imagine what a machine that had turned people mad would do to a man who was already insane. He stood and stared into the vortex, his fists shaking rapidly until one of the official's pulled him away.

Moriarty smirked as he turned round, his eyes piercing down in Lestrade's direction as he stalked over.

"You found me!" the sarcasm oozed through his words. "Where's the handcuffs? I was looking forward to that part!"


	41. Aggravate

"You took those two children, didn't you?" Lestrade pressed, watching as Moriarty paced a little.

"Now, Now... That'd be revealing my secrets, wouldn't it?" he clenched his fingertips together as he walked. "And as a matter of fact, I didn't. I thought you'd decided good old Mr Holmes was responsible for that one?"

"Sherlock?" Rory raised an eyebrow. "I mean... strange man, but there's no way he'd do that."

"You barely know him," Lestrade was wary of the unfamiliar man.

"Sherlock's not a saint, Rory," Sam's voice was softer, yet he still spoke firmly.

"Neither are you," and the minute Rory has said it, he knows he's got the upper hand. "And neither is Dean. And neither are all of the others who probably have no idea where we are."

"Lovers' tiff?" Moriarty shrugged, a smirk spreading across his face. "You lot are so _adorable._"

"Shut it, you."

"No seriously, where can I get your faces on a t-shirt?"

...

"Brian?" The Doctor shouted, realising the door to the man's house was unlocked and letting himself in. "Rory?... Anyone?"

He delved further into the house, almost creeping rather than taking his usual stride of a step. The lingering feeling that he wouldn't be able to find Brian hung over his head, bucketing down on him as the guilt burned in his chest with every heartbeat of his two hearts. He shivered, trying to rid himself of the image, yet his method of distraction only replaced that image with one of their bodies lying on the floor, which was arguably much worse.

"Brian?" he tried again, his voice faltering slightly with dread.

"Doctor?" the voice- which was recognizably the voice of Rory's father- sounded slightly dazed. "Is that you?"

"Brian..." sighing with relief, he followed the voice through to the living room. "You're okay!"

"Of course I'm okay!"

"The Silence have been here," The Doctor stared at the pen marks spread across Brian's body. "Where is Rory?"

"He's... I don't know where he is. There were monster thingies, which I can't remember... And I blacked out. I woke up, and he wasn't here."

"First things first... Tea. You look you need tea...Lot's of tea."

"Doctor?"

"Where do you keep your tea bags?"

"Doctor-" Brian protested, but The Doctor was already racing through the kitchen, chucking things from the cupboard in his search.

"Brian, tell we where the tea is!" in his hands, he held two cups, facing upside down.

"Doctor, forget about the tea! Are you working on trying to find Rory?"

"He only went missing this morning- he's not the only one gone. My friend's brother..."

Brian finally wandered through to the kitchen, retrieving the tea bags for The Doctor. If anything, the Time Lord looked like he needed a cup of tea even more than he did. They kept quite for a bit, The Doctor spending his time pacing the floor, his hands clasped behind his back.

"Rory was upset last night," Brian spoke suddenly, as he began stirring the sugar into the drinks. "I haven't seen him like that for years. He wasn't even just upset Doctor... He was distraught... What happened?"

"Things have been difficult Br-"

"Tell me, Doctor."

"Rory's been having visions, one of which is my death," he explained, feeling like he had to be truthful. "I'm dying. Rory was the only one who knew. Amy found out last night. And the others we have been travelling with."

"Are you oka-"

"I'm the king of okay," he flashed a pathetic smile. "It'll be months away."

"And Amy reacted how exactly?"

"She was angry that he hadn't told her... Angry that I'd wanted to keep it from her in the first place."

"Get back to your friends, Doctor. They need you right now."

"You're coming with me."

"Don't be such a fuss, Doc. I'll be fine here by myself."

"I don't want The Silence taking you as well..." the guilt rose in his throat.

"I'm not coming with you. What if Rory comes back, and I'm not here."

"Why must you be so stubborn?" he flung his hands in the air, giving one last look towards his friend before walking out of the house, his shaking fists clenched.

...

"Are you sure you don't want to volunteer?" the savage man's voice squealed. "Come on. _You know you want to..._"

"You never shut up, do you?" Rory questioned, massaging the headache that was beginning to reside at his temples. "Moriarty, please..."

"Headache?" he deliberately raised his voice, smiling.

"You should watch what you are saying, James Moriarty," Lestrade's voice was sterner than before. "When we get out of here-"

"Not when. _If_ would be more appropriate, but carry on."

"You will most definitely be arrested, and I can assure you, it's not whether you'll be charged, it's how many crimes you will be charged for."

"And Sherlock?" Lestrade knew what Moriarty was trying to do.

"Further investigation is needed, but I am unwilling to disclose this information with you."

Rory's face was paling by the minute, as Moriarty grew louder and louder. The man was refusing to keep quiet, knowing exactly what he was doing as he edged a little closer towards him. Rory shoved his head into his hands as they sat on boxes spread throughout what looked like a warehouse floor, the familiar overwhelming feeling pushing him towards the threshold, behind which the dread of the oncoming vision hid. The fire burned away at his skin, yet his insides felt frozen, as if every piece of warmth within his heart had diffused into his surroundings.

"Rory?" Sam's offer of concern seemed distant.

As usual, The Doctor lay dead on the floor at his feet, the fire billowing above him. The smoke wrapped around his throat like a noose, making him choke and cough and splutter. The Doctor's body still remained completely still. Unlike previous hallucinations which provoked him with words, the taunts were silent, niggling their way into his brain and twisting away at the cogs.

"Oh god," Sam's hand was on the man's shoulder, and it wasn't until he shook himself back into reality that he realised the vomit on the floor. "Vision?"

Rory nodded weakly, his head lolling to the side with fatigue.

"Kinda," he mouthed out.

"Like... Hallucinations?" Sam's face contorted with concern as Rory nodded again in response. "Shit..."

"I've only been having visions," Lestrade spoke, helping Sam move Rory slightly. "I would have told you Sam, but hey, I'm too proud."

They kept quiet for a second, until Moriarty shoved an axe through the silence, his eyebrows raising in their direction as he pointed his index finger and middle finger up at his throat, just like in the premonition. Rory dry-retched again, receiving a jolt from Moriarty's actions. The insane man's insanity had been amplified further, leaving him playful in his sarcasm. Thankfully, he wandered off before he could further aggravate them.

"I'd have told you too," Sam explained. "I guess my brother's method of bottling things up is rubbing off on me."

"It's just what's going on with everything on the TARDIS..." Rory's voice was ragged. "It's me, I think, not the visions... Or my mental state affecting how the premonitions manifest."

"What do you see?" Lestrade, despite barely knowing the other man, found an interest in what he had to say.

"Have you seen the vision of the man's body being burned?" the detective nodded in response. "That's The Doctor. My friend-... Best friend. I have the usual visions that you both do, but that... reoccurring vision appears as a hallucination, not a dream."

"Just relax, Rory," Sam sighed comfortingly. "It's all going to be fine."


	42. Alive

"It's been five days," Dean, for about the millionth time that week, chucked his phone onto the floor in anger. "Don't you think it's time to report them missing?"

"Sam already has been," Sherlock stated, passing the laptop across to Dean for research. "And Lestrade. Scotland Yard will have noticed."

"Molly's really worried," John stared at his phone for a second. "So nobody has had any news?"

"Nope," Amy tried to calm the pangs of guilt tearing through her chest.

"We'll find them, don't worry," The Doctor stood by the door frame. "We can do no more than research."

"Found something," Dean pointed to the laptop. "Had to root to the far regions of the search engines, but I finally found it."

"What?" Amy peered over his shoulder.

"Some dude called Sebastian Moran, believed to be working alongside Moriarty at some point during his busiest period of crimes. Army man, by the looks of things, but I'm going to assume that he's not serving any more. Apparently, according to this blogger's theory, he's the leader on some sort of government infiltration plan within Britain. There's mention of psychics..."

"And by government infiltration, you mean?" John asked.

"Maybe... What if there are psychics who are aware that the Gallifreyans want their 'master race' or whatever we're going to call it to be the highest power in the world? And this is just Britain... I can only assume that the same sort of thing is going on in America, at least."

"Well it's a start," The Doctor noted. "Is there any way to contact the man who wrote this source?"

"There's a link to send him a message."

"You know how to organize this kind of thing, so go ahead and sort it out for us to meet with him."

"Mycroft may have more confidential information," Sherlock spoke calmly. "I will arrange for him to meet me here, and I'll see what I can get out of him."

...

In the outskirts of the town, the group had found the blogger. Not much different from the strange people that Dean often met during one of his hunts, the man seemed to spend more time on his computer and researching trying to figure out what was going on with the Gallifreyans and the government takeover. The man let the three of them into his house, signalling for them to sit down on his sofa. The Doctor was squashed awkwardly in between Amy and Dean, the seat obviously meant for only two people.

"Harold," the man extended his hand in an offer of acquaintance. "Harold Nelson."

"Dean."

"Amy."

"And I'm The Doctor," he accepted the handshake.

"Just The Doctor?"

"Just The Doctor, yes."

"So what brings you here?" the man adjusted his glasses. "What is it you want to know?"

"This Sebastian Moran dude," Dean began, his eyes glancing throughout the room. "Who the hell is he?"

"You're some of the first people to have actually cared about my findings," Harold sighed, not answering Dean's questions. "Strange, isn't it? Thousands of people missing, yet nobody really cares..."

"You think he's got something to do with the disappearances?"

"Oh I know he does."

"Tell me about this Sebastian, Harold. How did you find out about him?"

"A little bit of digging, and I found him. It wasn't that difficult," he grinned cryptically.

"Who is he, you son of a bitch?"

"A criminal- _well..._ apparently reformed criminal. A large fraction of the psychics were of the belief that whatever... power was giving them their psychic abilities wanted this new...-Gallifreyan, is it?-race to lead the world. I can only assume that this may be the truth. A woman- one of the psychics- told me... 'the unseen warriors of the Time Lords are fighting the battle of their planet'... and these 'unseen warriors' are what have caused the disappearances, aren't they? Anyway, Mr Moran is one of them. He believes that the premonitions are messages- that they hold some sort of meaning... That the people who die in those visions either need to die, or have to be saved."

"And who decides that fate?"

"Exactly, but that's not the point... Those Gallifreyans want the return of the Time Lords- or at least... their legacy. Moran's jumping at the opportunity for power."

What's he planning to do?"

"Get elected into a position of power, and work his way up to the top."

"Why do you care so much?" Amy's eyes drifted through the room.

"I just have way too much time on my hands, and let's just say Sebastian Moran and I aren't on good terms."

"What does that mean?" The Doctor questioned.

"Like I said, he's a criminal..." the man bit his lip. "Now leave me alone. People are missing. Do you want them found or not?"

...

"Back from your little trip are you?" and within seconds of Mycroft being there, Sherlock was fighting back the urge to take his fist to his brother's face. "I am a very busy man, Sherlock. Please make this quick."

"Do you know anything about a man called Sebastian Moran, by any chance?" John asked.

"He's somewhere in the government, so yes I am familiar with him."

"Is he in a high enough position to be making any decisions?"

"No, he isn't, but he's only recently earned his place. I have no idea how high he is striving."

"Do you know anything about his altercations with Moriarty?"

"Sebastian Moran is a trusted man. He has given Scotland Yard numerous leads on where Moriarty may be-"

"False leads," Sherlock interrupted him. "He still hasn't been found."

"Moriarty is a tricky man-"

"Just go. You won't be of any help."

"Oh fine," Mycroft shook his head in bemusement. "I'll keep a look out for your friends."

...

"Three weeks," Dean grunted, walking out of yet another warehouse where the missing people obviously weren't alongside the rest of the group. "Three weeks, and we haven't had so much as a lead on where they could be."

"We'll find them, Dean," The Doctor reassured him a little. "Maybe we just need to change our tactics?"

"Forget this _crap_," he flung his hands in the air, storming back to Amy's car. "We're searching our asses off here, and for what? You guys really think we're going to find them?"

"Dean," Amy reached for his arm, trying to stop him from getting himself worked up. "There's no harm in checking-"

"We have no leads. _Nothing! _You really think by checking every single abandoned building in this country, we're going to find them? They could be anywhere, Amy. Any time, any place, any planet. Heck, how do we know if they're even alive?"


	43. Return

Dean had found refuge in the spare bedroom after they'd given up on searching, not sure whether he was willing to put up with other people at the moment in time. His heart pounded in his chest, and once again- the feeling having not surprised him in the slightest- he felt like he'd failed his brother. Somewhere in that twisted little mind of his, he thought that if he'd stopped Sam from staying in England, he'd have been able to somehow stop him from being taken, but in his rational mind, he knew that it was pointless worrying about what he didn't to instead of thinking about what he was going to do now.

"Um, Cas?" he stared up with his palms placed together, his eyes meeting the off-white ceiling. "I don't know what else to do... Sam's gone, and I swear this is basically our last chance in finding him... I know you're probably too busy to help, but Cas... I just...-"

"Just checking if you're okay, Dean," John's head peeked through the door just before Dean could finish his sentence.

"I'm okay. Just thinking," Dean grunted in response.

Dean's eyes darted through the room, desperately seeking for them to meet with the angel. Yet there was no sign of the man in the trench coat.

"Cas..." he whispered again, this time his voice straining with desperation.

The familiar sound filled the room, and Dean turned to find his old friend standing behind him.

"Dean," he spoke quietly.

"Cas," Dean replied, calming down a little now the angel had arrived. "I need your help."

"Sam's missing."

"Do you have any idea where he is? Any idea where he might be? _Anything? _Is he even alive?"

"He's alive. I can sense it."

"You and your angel friends better be trying to fix the whole dead alien race trying to take over Earth thing going on."

"We are aware of the situation," Castiel took a few steps, residing in front of the door. "Your friends, they won't mind me being here, will they?"

"Sure, there's a creepy angel in their house that they have no idea about," Dean laughed. "They're going to be just fine with it."

"Are you speaking in the language of sarcasm, Dean?"

...

"Where's Dean?" Amy peered around the room.

"Spare bedroom," Sherlock stated. "He's upset."

"He's been through there for a bit. I'll go check on him."

She wandered through, her steps becoming more tentative at the sound of an unfamiliar voice. Her friend's name sat at the back of her vocal chords, yet she found herself holding back, scared that there really was someone else there and she wasn't just imagining it. The voice grew louder as she got closer, and by the time she had opened the door, her fears were confirmed. Thankfully there was nothing but the tall lamp in the corner of the room to beat Castiel to a pulp with, and Amy was sure that she wasn't going to follow her husband's stupidity and injure herself trying to use it as a weapon.

"Amy! Don't worry-... He's nice!" Dean protested, trying to calm her down a little.

"Who the heck is this?" She ran a hand through her hair, waving her hand in the direction of the bemused angel.

"He's... he's an angel."

"Gee, aren't you nice to your friends?"

"No, I'm being serious. Amy, meet Castiel."

"Hello," the angel smiled.

"Never met an angel before... _well... _Are weeping angels real angels?" she relaxed, realising that the man in front of her was the one who Dean had mentioned.

"No," Cas paused for a moment. "I will find Sam, and the others."

And before they could even utter a goodbye, he had left. Neither of them minded, knowing that the faster he left to look for those who were missing, the faster they would be returned.

"He better bring them back, Dean," Amy stared at him, half smiling and half feeling her heart slip further into her chest. "If he doesn't, I swear I'm getting The Doctor to drop me off at the hotel where we found you to smash that Impala of yours to pieces."

...

"Doctor?" John filled the silence brought on by the boredom by deciding to question the Time Lord. "I just want to know... Why didn't you tell us?"

"I..." he was caught off guard. "You know why, John."

"I just don't understand. Why won't you let us cure you?"

"I'm not having this discussion, with you, or anyone for that matter."

"Leave him be, John," Sherlock shook his head. "He knows that if he doesn't die, something else will occur in it's place, and he doesn't want to face the consequences. He hadn't told us because he didn't want us pestering him to change his mind, because he knows that if it is not his death which takes place, it will be Amy's or Rory's or Dean's or Sam's or yours or mine. He doesn't mind dying, because in his mind, it's better than the alternative."

"I'm sorry," The Doctor spoke again. "I don't want any of you to die."

"Chances are, we'll die whether you die or not. Life doesn't work like that."

"But the Gallifreyans do. If they want certain events that have been documented in those dreams to happen- as if they were prophecies...- then they're most definitely going to happen. Even with very little power- nothing but remnants of psychic energies...- they have control over what is going to happen. I may even be the one keeping their dream alive- I cannot define exactly how the the Time Lords are controlling this, but has nobody stopped to think that maybe- just maybe...- I'm the one that they've channelled these psychic energies from? That I'm their transmitter?"

...

"Y'Okay?" Dean looked up towards Amy.

"Hmm?" she looked up. "Yeah, I'm fine. I just want Castiel to find them. Did you see how many children it is that are missing?"

"It was... three hundred or something?"

"It's four hundred this morning. And that's just in England."

"Any figures for the adults?"

"About one hundred, I think."

_And Sam and Rory are two of that hundred. _Amy's heart dropped further into her chest.

"Tell me about Sammy," she smiled sitting on the edge of the bed, trying to lighten the subject. "You seem to speak very highly of him."

"He's..." Dean bit his lip, thinking for a moment. "Well he's no angel."

"Gee, you really love that Castiel, don't you?"

"Sam's done some bad things, Amy- some _really _bad things- but the thing is... the bad decisions he'd made, he's made them for all the right reasons with the best intentions in mind. After all the crap we've had to face, I'm surprised he hasn't lost that heart of gold of his. " he inhaled deeply. "Even now, he'll still throw a smile in your direction if you're feeling like shit, or volunteer to help out if you're not in the mood to do something, or just... you know, make you feel like he genuinely cares. Anyway... Rory. Tell me all about Rory."

"He's... he's... he's extraordinary. Just when you think he's just this normal nondescript man, he just goes and proves that he's out of this world... I mean, like... recently, his head must have been pretty messed up, yet he's still the most caring and compassionate person you could ever meet. I really hope that wherever he his, that his heart is still beating, because I don't think the world can cope without it."

"Cas will find them all," Dean took a shaky breath, trying to control the tears that threatened to spill down his cheeks. "And if he doesn't, I'll boot his feathery ass straight back to heaven, do you hear?"


	44. Relief

"Everything okay?" John asked, as Dean and Amy came back into the room.

"Yeah. My friend- the angel I told you about a while ago- is out looking for the people who are missing," Dean began to explain. "So if a strange man in a trench coat appears, don't try to attack him like Amy did."

"Oi, if there was a stranger in your house you'd want to batter him wouldn't you? And I probably would've had there been a more suitable weapon than a bloody lamp!"

"That wouldn't have stopped Rory," The Doctor smiled, remembering his friend's stupidity.

"Anyway, did you hear about the ambassador's children? The ones that Sherlock allegedly kidnapped?"

"No, what has happened?"

"They vanished. Right in front of Sally Donovan's eyes."

"They did not vanish, John," Sherlock corrected. "They were taken. It is all beginning to make sense. The one thing I never understood was why the little girl Claudia screamed when she first saw me. It was not because I was the kidnapper, or I had done anything to hurt her, but because I was the man who jumped off a building in her nightmares."

"There's one thing I don't understand... Why were the children taken in the first place, when we found them in that factory?"

"Sebastian Moran is responsible, I presume. He wishes to assure that what happens in the premonition occurs. We know that he has worked alongside Moriarty before, and it would not surprise me in the slightest if the were cooperating at the moment. Moriarty set the case up to try and implicate that I had faked all of my cases myself, as he knew it would push me further and further onto that rooftop. And I assume that Moran performed some form of research into the psychics- who is to say that this wasn't just part of his research?"

"Do you know what I like about you, Sherlock?" The Doctor grinned. "You're clever. Very very clever."

"Um... Thank you?"

...

Despite the lack of hope that Castiel would find his brother, Dean stayed awake while everyone else sought refuge in their beds awaiting the man's return. With every gust of wind he could hear hurling from outside, his heart jumped, thinking that he could hear the familiar sound of Castiel's coat swirling as he appeared. His fists clenched as the guilt he felt for what had happened to his brother sunk in, tearing at his heart like someone had thrust a knife into his chest, and was proceeding to twist and turn it. He swallowed the overwhelming nausea that lingered at the back of his oesophagus, trying desperately to keep his emotions at bay.

"Dean?" The Doctor's voice was audible from the hall. "Are you still awake?"

"Uh yeah. I'm through here, Doc," his voice was grainy from the lump in his throat."

"What on earth are you still doing up? It's the middle of the night!"

"I could ask you the same question."

"I'm not human. I do not require as much sleep as you do. Now tell me, why are you still awake?"

"I know Cas. If he finds them tonight-... this morning?- then he'll come and alerted us as soon as he can. I don't want to miss him."

"And that is the only reason, yes?"

"Can't sleep. How are you doing, anyway? I mean-"

"I'm perfectly alright, Dean. Like I have told you all a million times before, I am not yet ill. I won't start to properly deteriorate until months away."

"Is there anything we can do? I mean Cas could easily-"

"Saving a human is a simple task for an angel, but the Time Lord anatomy is much more complex so I'm going to assume that it would be difficult for him...and the problem is more in the complete lack of regenerative energy in my system, rather than an actual physical affliction."

"Can't you just... I don't know! Conjure up some energy?"

"Energy cannot be created nor destroyed, just converted into another kind. That is the problem, which means it will get harder to repair my body..."

"Cas could give you some of whatever angel energy he has or something... And convert that?"

"That is one solution yes, but it would drain him greatly, and that would cause another problem in itself. And anyway, I am not fussed. If I don't die, someone else might have to in my place, and I can't guarantee that it won't be any of you lot."

The Doctor's voice was soft, lacking in the stressful tone that Dean had been expecting. He was taking the prospect of death in his stride. He had encountered it face to face several times before, so it was unsurprising that he was so calm. Dean however, wasn't taking it so lightly. His voice was quivering with every word, his bravado slipping away as his sentences began to break down. Now he was just being desperate, frantically trying to find a solution to the problem without breaking down the logic or common sense he so desperately needed.

"Are you scared?" Dean queried after a moment of silence.

"Terrified," and although he didn't seem it, the missing glint in The Doctor's eye said it all. "I don't want to leave any of you behind."

"If by some miraculous miracle you don't have to die, what are you going to do?"

"Keep on travelling, I guess. Alone, probably. I've ruined Amy and Rory's lives enough."

"Just don't be alone. If they're not coming along with you, I'll-"

"That's too big of an ask, Dean-"

"I'm being serious, Doc. Sammy's probably going to want to stay here in London, for a bit at least... I'm not going back to America alone. Hunting by myself is something I just don't want to do."

"Alone isn't for you too, then?" The Doctor smiled genuinely. "It shall be strange when we all part our ways, won't it?"

"Well you'll be dead," Dean shrugged, half heartedly laughing as he relaxed into his chair.

"And I thought you had faith!"

"You don't want to die do you? You've been putting up an act; treating Death like you do not mind- well, Death's actually a half decent guy but that's another story- him taking you away."

"But I have to. Or else you will die. Or Amy or Rory or Sam or John..."

"You don't know that."

"I cannot risk it!"

"Now that I think about it, it all makes sense... I mean, now I completely understand why Rory was like a dead man walking, and why you've been... different."

"The guilt I feel over Rory is... colossal in comparison to how I've ever felt before... And I've killed out of cold blood."

"Ditto," Dean shook his head, smiling a little. "Rory was just inside his own head- the poor guy had nobody he could talk to, and I'm pretty sure that your secret isn't the only one he was holding back."

"What do you mean? I don't understand..."

"When we woke up in the TARDIS and had no idea what had happened that day? He was unconscious whenever it happened. He remembers. He's the man with the secrets."

Their conversation was brought to an abrupt halt at the familiar sound of Castiel flashing in. Dean's eyes shot up from The Doctor to see the angel, and he sat on Castiel's every word, awaiting the news about his brother.

"I have found them," Cas spoke gruffly.


	45. Awake

Castiel led them towards a building which must have been a few hours away, but a quick whirl in the TARDIS had shortened their journey greatly. Overall, the building was quite nondescript; just a normal warehouse, the roof of which seemed a little wind beaten. Dean hesitated for a second, absorbing his surroundings before leaping into the task at hand. He couldn't help but smile at the sight of the salt line spread around the building on the concrete. The people in charge may have been cold-hearted and corrupt, but they most definitely weren't stupid.

"It's definitely here, right?" Dean's eyes widened, shrugging at the dullness. "I was expecting something a little more... official, I guess."

"Perception filter," The Doctor explained, glancing at the building. "Can't you tell? Oh wait... Perception filter... It filters your perception."

"Be warned," Castiel sighed. "Rory and Sam may not be the people you remember."

"I'll wait out here, and alert the police, okay?" Amy nodded, turning to Castiel to retrieve the address.

Meanwhile, the rest of them- including John, who realised the police weren't exactly chasing him for doing nothing more than punching someone, and that his face wasn't plastered all across the media- set about trying to find an entrance. It took them a minute to realise that Castiel could easily get them inside without wasting time trying to find a door or a window.

Inside, the presence of the perception filter came further into light. Instead of a warehouse, the building seemed to be set out like a school or an office building, and they found themselves situated in the foyer. Unsure where to go, they looked towards Castiel for answers. He pointed in the direction of one of the corridors, and led the way. His steps seemed to be hesitant, as if what lay ahead of them at the end of the corridor held great demons behind the doors. Dean ran ahead, turning back to ask Castiel if it was the right door, to which he received a half hearted nod.

He thrust through the door, his heart sinking a little when he was greeted with a classroom of eight year olds gaping at him. It took him a minute to realise that Sam was actually in room, standing up near a whiteboard clutching a pen in his hand. He was confused as to why Sam was teaching a lesson, yet it all seemed to make sense when he realised what Sam was writing on the board. His face contorted a little as he tried to figure out how Sam knew so much about the history of Gallifrey.

"You," he pointed towards him and grunted. "Outside."

"Dean?" he looked at his strangely, but followed his brothers orders.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Teaching."

"Yeah, I saw- but... you were taken, weren't you? How the heck have you ended up teaching a class?"

"Calm down, man! I wasn't taken, I was brought here. These children are the children being raised to create the next race of Time Lords, and I am merely a mentor in helping them on their way."

"What the heck is wrong with you? Last time I spoke to you, you were completely against the whole-"

"Against it?" Sam's laugh sent nervous shivers down Dean's spine. "Are you being serious? It's amazing! And Sebastian Moran-"

"Moran's a criminal, Sammy! He's collaborated with Moriarty! He's trying to overthrow the government!"

"Moran is a good man, and Moriarty has just been... badly led through life."

"Right, you're not talking any sense. Where's Rory?" Dean shook his head in distress. "Maybe he can restore a little bit of normality."

"Across the hall."

Dean's physically shaking by the time he returned back from speaking with Sam. John watched him with concern, sensing that it didn't go well. Castiel took off towards the classroom, clearly planning something, but the rest of the group focused their attention on Rory. The Doctor headed towards what he now rightly assumed was a classroom, his heard beating thunderously in his chest as he gently opened the door.

"Rory?" he spoke politely, careful not to disrupt the children staring up at Rory, waiting for him to speak.

"Excuse me, but who are you?" he turned away from the board, in the middle of writing something to do with Kasterborous.

"I'm... Do you not know who I am?"

"You look slightly familiar, but I... Nope, I can't say I know who you are. Any way can I get back to teaching? The Seven Systems is-"

"Excuse me, Doctor," Castiel suddenly barged past, placing his hands on Rory's forehead and watching as he flumped onto the ground. "Carry him. Dean's taking care of Sam."

"What did you do?" The Doctor proceeded to lift Rory's body up from the floor, feeling slightly apprehensive at the presence of the confused children.

"We're taking them back to Amy and Rory's. The police can come to find the children and the other adults. They shall wake up soon. The brain-washing effects will have worn off."

...

Amy tapped her foot with boredom. The warehouse was in the middle of nowhere, which meant the nearest police station with officers qualified enough to handle such a large case was over an hour away, so it wasn't like the police were going to show up any time soon. She was about to give up and go for a wander around the premises, when the sight of her husband's limp body held in The Doctor's arms caught her eye. Closely behind was Dean and John, lugging Sam along with him, also unconscious. Her breath hitched as she wandered over, and she had to fight the urge to gag when she realised how tiny Rory looked as they placed him onto the grass.

"We need to get them into the TARDIS-" Amy frantically spoke, stroking Rory's hair as she stared at The Doctor.

"Amy, wait a moment," The Doctor waved her concerns away. "Castiel had to do this."

"I wish I'd battered you with that lamp now," she pointed in the angel's direction. "What would possess you to do a thing like that?"

"I do not think you understand," he began to explain. "Their minds had been warped. I have simply rid them of the false beliefs cast upon them by those in charge of what is happening inside this building."

"So they're okay?"

"It is likely that they will wake up soon, and will resume as normal."

"Define soon, Cas," Dean demanded, as he nervously watched John check each of the men's pulses.

"Within the next few hours, hopefully."

...

Despite a lot of difficulty, they'd finally managed to drag the two of them back into the house. Amy took it upon herself to make Rory comfortable, whilst Dean was responsible for getting Sam into the spare room. Dean, who was shattered from having to carry a mass of pure muscle for about half an hour to try and get him upstairs gave up on watching over his brother, and took to the sofa in the living room, curling up to get away from the filthy hands of consciousness. Amy, however, sat on the other side of the bed, unable to sleep as she watched the still, unmoving lump underneath the covers. He looked peaceful in a way, but there was something about how rigid his muscles seemed that unnerved Amy. Her eyes stared at his chest, watching it rise and fall, her heard fluttering nervously every time the movement seemed too slow.

"You better wake up soon," she choked out, taking hold of his hand. "Or I'll never get to sleep again."

"Hmm," he grumbled tiredly, his fingers twitching, as if searching for Amy's grip. "A-Amy?"

"Are you awake?" she asked hesitantly. "Dean's friend, the angel Castiel, said it would take a few hours... and it's been three."

"Y-y-yeah," he croaked out. "Uh, what the hell happened? Last thing I remembered was looking into that schism thingy."

"We think you were brainwashed. Castiel did something, and hopefully sorted it out... How are you feeling, anyway?"

"Strange? M'head's killing, but I'm not sure I want to sleep... Might not wake up for a while. I'm hungry though. Really hungry."

"Sleep will probably help."

"Sam..." Rory mumbled, sounding a little disorientated as he sat up suddenly. "You got Sam out too, didn't you?"

"He's not awake yet," she gently took his hand, helping him to sit up properly against the headboard. "You want something to eat?"

"It's fine, I'll get something myself," he attempted to get up.

"No no no! That's what The Doctor is here for," she smiled. "DOCTOR?"

"It's... three in the morning."

"What? It's not like he sleeps."

"What is it?" the Time Lord's head appeared by the door frame.

"Fetch Rory something to eat, please?"

"Oh, you're awake!"

"Uh, yeah... I am," Rory shrugged sheepishly. "Just a sandwich or something, if it isn't too much bother? I don't think they gave us much food when we were there, so I figure it'd be better to be more safe than sorry."


	46. Unsettled

Sam had taken a little longer than Rory to stir from his deep slumber- just by a few hours, but long enough for it to be quite noticeable. Dazed, he looked around the room wondering why it wasn't the little shack he'd been shoved into back at the warehouse(or whatever it was, because it seemed to have changed a few times during his time there), but then he realised that it was slightly familiar.

"Dean?" his throat felt like sandpaper, as if he hadn't talked for months. "Dean..."

_Silence. _He tried again, his throat tearing as he raised his voice a little.

"Sam?" Dean finally appeared, his eyes wide, and Sam wasn't sure if it was because of the obvious lack of a good nights sleep or his excitement. "Thank god you're okay."

"Rory's okay too?" Sam looked up tiredly.

"He's up and he's walking and talking," he smiled. "So I guess he's alright. What about you, Sammy? You feeling okay?"

"I feel like someone's tying my stomach into knots..."

"Cas did say you'd probably feel like shit. Rory seems fine- just tired... Oh and you should probably change clothes- did they even give you other clothes while you were there?"

"Good idea," he sheepishly looked towards the pile of clothes at the end of the bed. "They're yours."

"All of your stuff is at Baker Street, so that'll have to do."

Where's Cas anyway?"

"Living room. Speaking with the others. You hungry?"

"Nope- and before you beg me, I'm not touching food with a fifty foot barge pole."

"Dude, what the hell is a barge pole?"

Sam shrugged, laughing as he sunk back into the pillow, ready to sleep again.

...

"The police have managed to get all of the children from the building," John called the others in to see the news broadcast. "Moriarty was sighted there too, but they didn't manage to arrest him."

"What about Lestrade?" Dean asked as he wandered into the room. "Lestrade was missing too, wasn't he?"

"He has also been found, and Sebastian Moran has been taken in for questioning."

"Today is a good day," The Doctor grinned, watching the clip they were showing of the children being greeted by their families. "A very good day."

"They've found everyone?" Rory mumbled. "There were thousands of people there."

"Almost all of the children, and about two thirds of the adults," John explained calmly.

"What are they saying about it? I mean, they can't exactly say that invisible aliens and a dead planet were responsible for the kidnappings."

"Government infiltration, and Sebastian Moran is the main suspect."

Not too long after that, Dean, Amy and The Doctor had left to replenish their store of food, now that they had to feed two extra bodies, and Sam hadn't yet surfaced from the safety of the guest room, leaving Sherlock, Castiel, Rory and John in the living room, awkwardly silent as they stared around the room. Rory felt slightly out of place, having not been in their company for weeks, and lacking the reassurance of his wife's presence, he felt slightly unsure about when to speak. His eyes drifted around the room as he picked up the business card that sat on the table beside him.

"Who's Kitty Reilly?" Rory's words were perfectly placed, inducing both men's heads to turn around to look at him.

"A reporter," Sherlock stated. "She's running an expose to try and out me as fraudulent."

"Which is completely untrue?"

"Yes."

"But where would she get that idea from?"

"She's an idiot?" John suggested. "I said I wasn't going to pester you again, but you should speak to her. You are clever enough to carefully place your words-"

"No, John."

"John's right. I can tell you hate the woman, Sherlock, but with that little girl... the ambassador's daughter... being one of the ones at that was taken by The Silence and involved in a completely separate news story, you may be able to clear your name a little, so you can leave this house."

"I need to speak with Castiel first. Alone," Sherlock nodded. "Then John and I will be leaving."

...

_"I need your help," Sherlock spoke calmly._

...

Sherlock and John had left quickly, and two hours later, they called to say they were spending the rest of the week in London, as the Moriarty case had spiralled. Dean was tempted to drive them all down to Baker Street to assist them, but Sam managed to talk him out of it, explaining that Lestrade and Mycroft would not appreciate their overwhelming presence.

Aside from that specific event of the past few hours, The Doctor seemed to be having an off day. He'd been hoping the trip out would do him the world of good, but he'd returned to the house with the same unsettling feeling of tiredness. Suddenly much quieter than he had been before, he slipped further into his chair, distant from the jovial havoc surrounding him. He'd been busy, having occupied his thoughts with thinking about finding Sam and Rory and the others, and now that they'd been found, his mind desperately reached for thoughts to fill itself with, replacing those empty spaces with the dread of his impending death.

"Doc?" Dean nudged his side, taking a swig of his beer. "You feelin' okay?"

"Tired," he breathed truthfully.

"Slow down for a few days, okay?"

"I'm fine," The Doctor dispelled the concern. "I'm just a weepy old idiot, who's getting overemotional about the weeks events..."

...


	47. Betrayal

When Sherlock and John failed to return by the end of the week, the group decided it would be wise move to travel down to London to assist them on their task. But they had to find them first. The Doctor and Amy headed to Scotland Yard, Rory went off to St Barts Hospital, Sam headed towards Baker Street, whilst Dean was left roaming the rest of London.

Rory found John and Sherlock in one of the labs in the hospital, discussing something to do with Moriarty. Rory sighed with relief, now fully realising the golden opportunity that had arose in front of him. He'd have to wait to snatch it though, as John's phone rang as if on cue. He could hear Sam's voice on the mobile, frantically telling John that Mrs Hudson, the Landlady for 221B, had been shot. Sherlock and John scuffled for a moment, as Sherlock had refused to join him in returning. Rory stood back, waiting for John to leave.

"Moriarty's on the roof," Rory's voice was cold, but Sherlock didn't seem bothered by his strange behaviour.

"I know," Sherlock replied.

"He's expecting you."

"And why are you so concerned?"

"Today has to happen Sherlock. I mean... who is to say that you won't survive the fall?"

Sherlock's hand clutched tightly around his phone, his fingers dancing over the keypad. He took another look at Rory, before he finally sent the text to the man on the roof. The other man left abruptly, leaving Holmes to walk towards his fate.

...

Having had no luck, the group gathered near St Barts, awaiting Rory's return. He finally left the building, staring up at the roof as he joined them. John followed not too soon after, frantically dashing towards Sam with the news that Mrs Hudson was in fact fine.

He noticed Rory staring up at roof and darted forward towards the building, stopping when he saw Sherlock yelling down at him to stay where he was. The rest of the group stayed back, Rory guarding them from running forward as if his life depended on it. It happens within an instant, but for them it felt like an eternity. Sherlock's body hurtled towards the ground, and John instinctively rushed forward, his pursuit being blocked by the impact of a bike. He pulled himself up from the floor, his stomach feeling like it had lost its lining, and the acid contained inside was desperately attacking at its walls as he caught sight of the blood. The others tried to surge forward, only to be stopped by Rory's desperate screaming. As the body was rushed inside to the safety of the hospital, the group finally followed in behind, catching up with John in the waiting room of the emergency department.

John's face was gaunt, lacking its previous colour which had now been replaced with a dull grey. They were all too distraught to notice how Rory was acting, knowing that it would be impossible for Sherlock to have survived the fall. Amy stroked John's back as he desperately retched into a nearby bin, telling him that it would all be fine even though it wouldn't be. Some of the other people make a fuss of him, asking if they should go and find a nurse or something, but John stops gagging after a bit, shoving his head into the hug that Amy was offering him.

"I..." John's forehead scrunched up. "I just..."

"It wasn't supposed to happen," Amy's voice was altered with anger. "He was meant to chose not to do it."

"Sherlock's not stupid," Rory dived in. "And why are we even waiting here? There's no way he's survived that fall."

"Too much blood..." John muttered.

"His head was smashed..." Dean grunted in addition. "There's no chance..."

"The roof... Moriarty must have been there too. Moriarty's dead," Sam's eyes widened with the realisation.

"Rory," Amy wandered over as John escaped from the hug. "You're acting strange. I'm worried..."

"I'm fine," he brushed the hand that was reaching up to stroke his hair away hastily. "Can we please leave? He's dead and that's how it's meant to be-"

"How the heck can you say that, you son of a bitch?" Dean's fist would have met with the other man's face if it hadn't been for Sam holding him back. "You wanted Sherlock to die."

"I'm not stupid, of course I did!"

"Sam, you got any salt or holy water?"

"Probably..." he reached into his pocket, chucking the two things in Dean's direction.

Rory didn't even react, just letting the water roll down his forehead as it collided with him.

"Look, can we just go home?" he flung his hands in the air.

"You're not coming back to ours," Amy's voice was stern and her hands were balled into fists. "You can stay with your dad tonight."

"If I could explain myself...-"

"Then explain yourself, Rory!" John raised his voice. "Don't... Don't betray us like this!

"I... I can't. None of you can know..."

"You're still not allowed home," Amy shook her head. "I think you should leave."

"I... If you knew then you wouldn't be kicking me out..."

"Then tell us!"

"Come talk to me for a second?" Dean's voice was filled with reason, and he spoke again once they were out of earshot. "What? Tell me what it is."

"Sherlock's alive, or will be soon. He has asked Castiel to... bring him back to life, and then he will go into hiding," Rory gave in.

"Why can't anyone know?"

"John can't know... It'll mess up the premonition if he knows... Amy-... Amy could tell him, and she'll still think I'm betraying you... And The Doctor... He'll want to find Sherlock."

"And Sam? He knows, doesn't he?"

Rory nodded.


	48. Mourn

Not one of them had spoken since they'd returned from the hospital, with the news that Sherlock was dead. Dean was downing yet another glass of whiskey, hissing internally with every sip as the alcohol failed to fill the empty pit at the bottom of his stomach. Even with the reassurance that Rory's admission brought, he found himself unable to not be bothered by yet another person he cared about being at death's beck and call. Sam tried speaking to him, but within a couple of attempts it was confirmed that trying to cheer him up was a lost cause.

To say that John was distraught would be an understatement. He hadn't said a word; silenced by the fall of his best friend. Whilst the rest had only known Sherlock for a little while, John had known the man for much longer. His mind was finding it difficult to process the words; Sherlock Holmes was dead. He could imagine the headlines that were going to appear the next day. It must have been Christmas for Kitty Reilly, he thought, realising the opportunity for outing Sherlock as a fake.

"Doctor?" Amy curled up beside the Time Lord on the sofa, handing him a good old cup of tea.

"Yes?" he looked up, his eyes wide with the unconditional guilt that plagued all of them. "Is everything okay?"

"Everything was meant to... get better. Rory and Sam were safe and...-"

"Amy, nobody was expecting this but it has happened, therefore we will have to just try and deal with it. Where is Rory? Did he go to stay with Brian?"

"He took you up on the offer of sleeping in the TARDIS- I think solitude is what he needs right about now," Dean explained. "He's not suddenly become evil, you know. You don't have to hate him."

"He told you, didn't he?" John joined in with the conversation, his voice strained. "He told you why he was acting so strange."

"He's done the right thing. I can promise you, everything's going to be fine. And if it isn't and he's sold me lies, that son of a bitch isn't going to be on this planet, okay?"

"_Everything's going to be fine?_! Sherlock's dead, for goodness sake!"

"I've died before. And Sam, too."

"And in case you haven't noticed, I'm a bit of a compulsive cheater of death myself," The Doctor noted.

"So there's hope that he's alive? After making that kind of fall?" Amy queried.

"He's dead, and he's not going to just... come back to life okay?" John was obviously close to tears. "Just stop being so optimistic and face the truth; he's gone."

"Sometimes having hope is the best thing," The Doctor sighed. "In times of sadness, the only thing that can help is to be happy."

"Sherlock wouldn't want us to mourn," Sam smiled gently.

It seemed like the simplest thing, yet it brought such an eerie silence that you'd have thought he'd just recited pi to a million decimal points. Sherlock would be telling them not to be so stupid; to not care so much, and go out and get on with it. Obviously, it wasn't as simple as just being happy, but they could channel their not so happy thoughts into sharing their happy memories and spread some light on the horrible situation.

"Sherlock was..." John began.

"A brilliant man?" Amy suggested.

"Amazing?" Dean smiled gently.

"The cleverest human being you've ever met?" The Doctor added.

"I was going to say an idiot, but yes, a brilliant, amazing and clever idiot at that. He may have come across as apathetic and heartless, but I think you all know, he most definitely has a heart."

"I just don't want us to have to face losing you too in a few months, Doctor," Amy sighed.

"I said happy, Amy," he frowned.

"You don't have to die."

"We have been through this. The premonition of these deaths are part of a prophecy.. They must happen."

"It's true," Sam nodded. "I saved loads of people thinking that's why I was having the dreams, but just days later the same things happened again, and I couldn't stop them."

"We may not be happy with what has happened to Sherlock, or what is going to happen to me, but the circumstances of trying to prevent it may far outweigh the tragedy of our current situation."

"It doesn't mean they'll be dead forever though," Dean smiled half-heartedly.

"C-can't... Can't your friend Castiel bring Sherlock back?" John asked, his voice shaky.

"Um..." Dean wasn't sure how to answer. "The angels aren't just miracle givers- he'd likely refuse. Resurrecting a man from the dead can have some pretty big consequences."

Silence ensued. Not one of them was having an easy time trying to fathom the situation. They were all expecting an explosion; for someone to finally react to the situation like an alkali metal in water, screaming and shouting and crying as the emotions finally erupted from their casing. If Dean had to bet on who would break first, he'd have put his money on John. He could just see the man's shaking hand, and the frequent action of running his fingers through his hair. Even the tiniest thing may have set him off.

"Can we let Rory back in?" Sam rested the back of his head on the sofa and sighed. "It's not fair- he's not really done-"

"Sam," Dean looked towards him. "Leave him. He needs some time on his own."

"Time on his own? Really?"

"Can I talk to you for a second?"

"Sure."

"Alone."

They shuffled out to the hall.

"I don't get it," Dean finally spoke.

"Don't get what?"

"Rory can't tell them all Sherlock is alive, but continued to express happiness over his death, even though they didn't know?"

"He's still... They messed our brains up a lot. We're slightly more out of control than usual... In adrenaline fuelled situations, emotions will be hard for us to contain-"

"You better contain those emotions, Sammy. You and out of control don't mix."

"Don't you think I know that? I handled my emotions, didn't I? I kept my mouth shut, because I knew that if I spoke I wouldn't be able to stop myself."

"And I'm happy about that- just... make sure you're in control okay? The last thing we need is you going off the rails again."

"Dean, I'm fine. Rory was messed with so much more- he couldn't even remember you all. It's going to be a while before he's back to normal, and I doubt he's been normal for the long time. I... When we were in that warehouse or whatever, he told me about what's going on with The Doctor."

"Yeah, I assumed."

"What The Doctor did- how he just... thought Rory would be able to handle it, and didn't really care much that he didn't."

"You weren't around," Dean's voice got lower. "You can't talk about it like you knew what happened."

"Oh so now you're turning this around to me not travelling in the TARDIS with you?"

"Yeah, maybe I am."

"I was happy for once, Dean! I didn't have to worry about whatever shit was going on- I could hunt _and _live a normal life-"

"Who'd you think you are? Hannah Montana? You can't have both, Sammy!"

"I'm going to speak to Rory, okay? I'm not going to let him inside, but I'll speak to him, right?"

"Fine."

"Fine."


	49. Settled

Sherlock found himself in the back of a London taxi, not entirely sure of how he got there. It just seemed strange, the scene outside the window repeating itself as he stared at it. This most definitely wasn't the work of reality. As he expected, the angel appeared by his side, turning his head to look at him.

"Castiel, where are we?" he asked him.

"We appear to be in a taxi," Castiel stated.

"You know that is not what I mean."

"Heaven. You'll be safer here than having to hide."

"This is a place of dreams, Castiel. I do not feel comfortable."

"These may be dreams, but without a doubt this is all real. You remember this, don't you?"

Castiel disappeared, being replaced with the image of John. Sherlock smiled, remembering the case they were headed towards.

...

Two weeks passed before anyone else attempted to speak with Rory, apart from a few texts from Sam- it wasn't even as if they volunteered to either. They just wanted to go a whirl in the TARDIS, meaning he was booted out and left alone again. He didn't really mind- he understood why they weren't treating him with their usual warmth and kindness. It was just that he could only go so long without having an in depth conversation with someone who wasn't himself.

His head felt like someone was prodding away at his brain. He hadn't exactly admitted it to himself, but deep down, he was scared. He'd spent so long desperately trying not to lose the one's he loved, yet he'd lost them almost instantly.

"I guess it's just you and me," he choked out a half-arsed laugh as he looked at his reflection in the mirror above the mantelpiece. "Well... Just me."

He slumped down on to the sofa and flipped through the channels on the television, trying to distract himself with the lives of fictional characters instead of worrying about his own, but still the guilt crawled around his insides, tearing away at him as each second passed.

...

"I thought you said we were going to the planet of pie, Mr Spaceman!" Rory could hear Dean grunting from the hall. "You lied!"

"Their were a couple of navigational issues-" The Doctor's voice could also be heard.

"You don't lie about the pie!"

The ruckus followed through to the living room where Rory sat. He jumped from his seat, fumbling with the remote to turn the television of and mumbling that he was on his way back out.

"Stay," Amy stopped him before he reached the door.

He grinned, feeling the warmth from her hand radiate through his chest. He'd missed her so much. He'd missed them all.

"I-... You don't want me here, do you? It's fine..."

"Rory, I want to speak with you," she smiled calmly, pulling him upstairs and shutting the door behind them.

He sat awkwardly on the edge of the bed, feeling like he didn't quite belong after what he had done. His skin was crawling and he felt as if he was permanently stained by Sherlock's blood, like the pavement below him. He was barely even aware of Amy's hand on his shoulder until she spoke.

"I know you're not... evil," she sat down beside him. "And if you are, the only possible weapon in here is that lamp, and let's face it... You'd probably hurt yourself more than you'd hurt me."

"I-I'm sorry," he choked out, feeling his throat close up with overwhelming anxiety. "I just..."

"I'm annoyed with you, but I'm willing to listen okay?"

"Sherlock's alive. Or he will be. You cannot tell John, under any circumstances, okay? He cannot know. I acted strange-... I'm still messed up from being away and...-"

"You told Dean, didn't you? Why could you trust him, and... not me?"

"I don't even know, Amy. Sam knew because he'd had the same vision- he would've told Dean down the line anyway. And... I mean, you're not exactly known for being quiet."

"How did he survive- I mean, a fall like that?" she spoke after hitting him with a pillow.

"Castiel, I assume. He asked to speak to him in private- I think that's what it must have been about," Rory laughed, taking the pillow from her. "Hey, you lied. There are weapons in here."

"Thank you for trusting me, Rory. I won't tell John, but when he can he know?"

"He must visit Sherlock's grave with Mrs Hudson, and Sherlock must be there watching him."

"That's what happened in the vision? Ah, I get it. He has to think Sherlock's dead, or the vision won't happen like it did?"

"And we all can't be there, so we'll probably not know when it happens, which means we keep our mouths shut until he finds out for himself."

"I missed you," Amy took his hand.

"I missed you too," he smiled back, leaning his head on her shoulder.

...

"Hey, where'd Amy and Rory go?" Dean looked around the room, only just realising they weren't there.

"They've been upstairs for ages," Sam explained.

"Probably kissing," The Doctor added.

"Don't be mad at him, John," Sam began. "He... If you knew-"

"Well I don't know do I?" John shook his head. "I'm leaving and going back to Baker Street if he's not staying in the TARDIS or going to stay with his dad."

"John, please."

"No, it's fine. I'm happy at my dad's," a dishevelled looking Rory suddenly appeared at the door with Amy following close behind. "Maybe I'll run into River at some point, and spend some time with her for a bit."

"I'll be taking off too," Sam drops another bombshell. "Mol-"

"You're not going anywhere Sam," Dean grunted. "Don't want you going missing again."

"Yet you don't seem to mind about Rory going to stay with his dad, the exact place where he was taken from. Anyway, I'll only be gone for a day or two- I'm just passing on my condolences."

"Okay, fine you can go, but don't expect me to even look for you if you go missing again this time."

"Is that code for you'll tear the earth apart until you find me?" Sam smirked.

"Um... Uh huh?" Dean caved in.

"I'll drive you to your dad's, by the way," Sam turned to Rory.

"In my car?" Rory raised his eyebrows. "We better head then. It's getting dark."


	50. Relax

**Next story arc is introduced towards the end: Slightly inspired by the fact I watched 'Midnight' again the other day, and liked the concept of them going to relax then being shoved into some awful situation all of a sudden, and as far as that 'awful situation' goes, it has something to do with 'survival'.**

"Rory," Brian smiled at the sight of his son, pulling him into a hug as soon as he opened the door. "Thank goodness you're safe!"

"Mind if I stay here tonight?" Rory asked, grinning with happiness at his reunion with his father.

"Have you and Amy still not sorted out your differences?"

"We have. We're okay now, I think."

"Of course you can stay here, you idiot. You don't even have to ask. Now come on and I'll get you a cup of tea and we'll watch a bit of telly, eh?"

Brian couldn't help but sense that his son wasn't acting like himself. In the moments where Rory seemed to think that his dad wasn't paying attention, he began to let his smile fall. And even when he was smiling, his eyes seemed to droop a little, as if he couldn't quite bring himself to be genuinely happy for once. Brian opened his mouth to say something, but he decided to wait until after they'd had their tea to ask.

"You haven't told me what happened yet," Brian sighed as he passed the mug to him. "Where were you?"

"I don't even know, honestly. We were taken, and shown this... vortex schism thingy for the sake of tradition or something... I remember teaching classes on things I don't have a clue how I knew. I remember speaking to Sam-... have I told you about the Winchesters? Oh well...- a whole lot, but other than that, I'm pretty confused," Rory shrugged.

"You're okay, yes? I mean, is there a good reason why you aren't at home?"

"There isn't what you'd call a nice atmosphere. Our friend, Sherlock Holmes... Surely you've read it in the papers? 'Suicide of Fake Genius'? His best friend John isn't exactly on my side. H-he...Sherlock isn't dead. I knew, and because my head was so messed up still... I couldn't hold back from being excited, so he thinks I've betrayed them... Everyone but he and The Doctor knows, and I'm only not telling The Doctor because... I need to know that somebody is still on my side despite not needing to trust me completely..."

"You know what your problem is, son?"

"What?"

"You care far too much," Brian found himself hugging his son again. "And I wouldn't want it any other way."

"It's nice to be normal for once. All the crap that's been going on-... I'm just tired..."

...

"You have no idea how worried I was!" Molly exclaimed as she wrapped her hands around Sam's neck. "You're okay, aren't you? Lestrade was a little shaken up when he returned..."

"How is everyone? I mean... with what happened to Sherlock..." Sam asked, his smile deflating a little.

"Mycroft is... understandably still grieving, and Mrs Hudson, and those at Scotland Yard seem to be coping fine."

"And yourself?"

"Let's just say... I'm aware of the truth of these circumstances."

"You know?"

"Wait... you know too?"

"If we're talking about what I think we're talking about... Yes I know."

"Sherlock's alive?"

"That is what I know, yes. The... The angel- Castiel? Sherlock asked for me to arrange for him to be there in the hospital to take him away. So how are you?"

"I'm... I'm holding up I guess. I mean... I don't think I've fully recovered since I got back, but I'm on my way, I think."

"Are you staying?"

"Uh... for a bit. My brother wants me to go back in a few hours- things are a little tense with Sherlock being gone and-..."

"I understand."

...

"Can't we go somewhere, Doctor?" Amy, bored out of her skull, groaned.

"Count me out," John sighed. "I'll go back to Baker Street. I need some time to myself anyway."

The group really did need a break. Having spent the last few months worrying about Rory and Sam's whereabouts, and having to deal with the grief that followed Sherlock's death, they'd been run ragged. Not only that, but they'd hardly left Amy and Rory's humble little house since they arrived there, and they were quite frankly going a little bit stir crazy. The Doctor had become strangely quiet, suffering greatly from the fatigue brought on by his elected position as a leader in their current situation, and Amy was plagued with the boredom that came with being holed up in one place for so long. John needed away from them for a bit, to clear his head and be in the company of other people, and Dean just wanted something to occupy himself with. Sam and Rory too needed a break, Sam having been busy making sure John didn't find out, and Rory needing away from the burdens that rest upon his shoulders.

"I'll go call Rory and Sam," Dean sighed. "Tell them to be back by tomorrow morning, because I'm not going anywhere without them."

"Where are we even going to go?" Amy shrugged with laughter. "Haven't you exhausted the universe by now?"

"The universe is a big place, Pond," he grinned. "There's always somewhere that hasn't been blessed with my presence yet."

"Is there some kind of space holiday retreat?" Dean laughed, half joking. "I could do with a Mars mud bath or something."

"Starship Hotels! Cruise ships in space!"

"Hopefully without the illness inducing food and crappy entertainment," Amy scoffed. "Only if it's really nice, Doc."

"Maybe I shouldn't have compared it with cruise ships... And if we're lucky, my good old friend Captain Jack-... you haven't met him yet, haven't you?- will be performing on the circuit."

"Whereabouts is this Starship Hotel you're taking us to now anyway?"

"The Starship Hotels are associated with many of the leisure planets... They're like leisure palaces, but instead of being on the planet, they orbit near it. It's a good use of space, actually... I would take you to one of the actual leisure planets, but the Starship hotels are just as good."


	51. Collide

"I hope you don't mind, but I asked Molly to join us," Sam arrived back to the house early the next morning, with Molly by his side.

"The more the merrier!" The Doctor smiled, signalling for them to come in.

Dean's eyes shot up when he realised who was with Sam. He sighed, recognizing his brother's attempt to get him to come round to the idea of letting him stay in London and shrugged. They were still waiting on Rory to arrive back and when he finally got there, they discovered that his tardiness was down to him stupidly oversleeping.

"You can sleep while we're away, Roranicus!" The Doctor ruffled the man's hair, receiving a snarly glare in return. "A whole week- or two if you like- of fun and relaxation!"

"I honestly hope I'm not intruding-" Molly stumbled over her words. "I mean... you all know each other and-"

"Don't be silly, we're glad to have you on board," Amy smiled. "I need someone else to talk to other than this crazy lot!"

"Can we... you know... get a move on?" Dean grunted.

...

"Welcome to Abydos Starship Hotel #4," the overenthusiasm of the Leisure Palace worker didn't sit well with Dean. "Brochure?"

"Thank you," Sam nodded politely, nudging his elbow against his brother's chest to tell him off as he took a look at the brochure. "Non-gravity swimming pools? How the hell does that work?"

The Doctor grinned, shook his head and didn't bother explaining. Whilst he ran ahead to organize their rooms, the group was left to explore a little. Even just in the foyer, the location was picturesque. Molly found herself gazing out the window towards the planet below. They weren't too far above the surface of the planet, but higher than a plane would hover above Earth. For this reason, and due to the smaller size of Abydos, they could see a large section of the planet just from the tiny little window.

"Beautiful isn't it?" Sam reached for Molly's hand. "Apart from Apalapucia, I think this is the first time I've properly seen a planet... And I barely got to see Apalapucia because I... ended up on the floor ten minutes in to our visit."

"Only you, Sammy," she smiled, clutching his hand in hers. "Only you."

"Not going to hold my hand and gaze at the stars, Rory?" Amy joked as she walked over to him.

"I would, but I'm too tired," he yawned, clumsily accepting the hug she offered.

"Are you okay, hun?" she pulled away for a second, looking a little concerned. "You seem a little run down..."

"Just not really had a break in a while, I guess," he shrugged. "With all the crap with The Doctor and then being taken away-"

"That's why we're here, okay?" she allowed him to rest his head on her shoulder. "For a break. No drama, no stress, no nothing."

"Guess it's just going to be you and me, Doctor," Dean laughed as the Time Lord came back over to join them. "Now, who's hungry?"

"Same old Dean..." Sam laughed, walking back over with Molly to join his brother.

They headed towards the food lounge, and much to Dean's delight, they barely had to wait until they were seated around a large glass table. The Doctor introduced himself to the group at the tables to the right and left of them, both of which were composed of beings that most definitely weren't human. The room was beautiful, constructed of high ceilings with a glass roof, so you could see the stars above, and a thick glass floor, through which you could see the planet below.

"My friend Jack is on the entertainment circuit- what a delightful surprise!" The Doctor flipped through the brochure as they waited for their food to arrive. "He spent a little while on a few Starship Hotels investigating something to do with a confused Sontaran and a lost Slitheen. He had to occupy himself somehow..."

"Not even going to ask," Rory shook his head, taking a sip of his drink. "Wait... Captain Jack-... Is that...? Wait, never mind."

Not realising that Rory could fully remember their encounter with the Doctor's friend in the alternative future, the rest of them shoved Rory's stumble aside as confusion on his part, and looked around the room, waiting for the waiter to return with their food.

"Is that him, Doc?" Amy leaned over, pointing to the man setting up a microphone on the stage in the far corner of the room.

"Yes, I believe so, but our food has arrived," he smiled, reaching for his cutlery to dig in. "I believe this is fish... or chicken... Or neither?"

"Whatever the heck's in this burger I don't care," Dean spoke through a mouthful of food. "It's so good!"

...

By the time they decided to head back to their rooms- some earlier than others- almost all of them firmly believed that for once, nothing was going to go wrong. Although not naïve enough to believe that everything was going to be okay, they gained a little hope from the faultless day. Just like The Doctor had told them, the place was like nothing they'd seen before. They'd taken full advantage of the activities on offer, having tried out the peculiar future sports, some of which involved very little gravity, and sought refuge in the spa. By the end of the night, they found themselves in the food lounge again, with the intent to party until the early hours of the morning.

Rory, still plagued by exhaustion, barely lasted an hour after they'd eaten their last meal before he decided he was heading towards his room to sleep. A pain was beginning to take residence behind his eyes and around his sinuses, and whilst this wasn't the usual position for the pain that usually came with his visions, he wasn't going to rule it out as a possibility for what was causing it, as the pain took the form of the familiar dull ache he'd grown accustomed to. However, he realised that the pain most likely was to do with his lack of sleep, or possibly he was starting to come down with something.

The Starship was divided into three sections, the middle section being the largest, containing the food lounge and kitchen on the bottom floor, and the recreational activities on spa on the next few floors, as well as the medical facilities, and above that was floor upon floor of rooms where the guests slept. One of the other sections included the huge foyer, with storage above and below, where the TARDIS could be found. The right outer section consisted of the food storage which was connected through to the kitchen, the circular relaxation room which had televisions and other entertainment equipment, with emergency storage above on the top floor. The entire Starship was monstrous in its size, particularly with the middle section, but the outer sections were relatively small in comparison.

"Amy?" Rory looked slightly dazed as she let herself into the room. "W'time is it?"

"Three in the morning or something?" she joined him in the bed, resting her head on the pillow. "Not like you to back out of a party. You okay?"

"Vision coming on, maybe," he shrugged. "Not sure. It's... different."

"Well, Sam seems okay, if that's anything to go by? Just rest, okay? We're heading towards the relaxation room- The Den, I think they call it?- anyway probably, seeing as we'll probably be suffering tomorrow after tonight..."

"You drank that much?"

"I didn't, but Sam and Dean did. The Doctor's friend Jack is a bad influence. I somehow don't think you'll be the only one with a sore head tomorrow."

...

As Amy predicted, the Winchesters appeared in the food lounge an hour later, clutching at their heads and eating the bare minimum of the breakfast put in front of them.

"Suffering there, you two?" Rory- who albeit was empathetic, with his head feeling like it was going to explode- laughed.

"Shut your mouth," Dean grumbled, desperately taking a sip at his coffee to try and wake himself up a little.

Once they were finished, they headed down towards the right section of the ship, sighing in relief when they realised that there were only a few others in the room with them. This group included a uninterested teenage boy, who was obviously trying to escape his overenthusiastic parents, an elderly man dressed in eccentric clothing and a young couple. The room, despite being small in size compared to other areas of the hotel, was amazing. Bookshelves full of classics- and books that the group recognized as brand new, but were at that time period, considered to be classics- were spread through the walls of the room, along with shelves of whatever the future's replacement for the now obsolete DVD was.

The Doctor occupied himself by selecting a book off the shelf, and the rest of the group sat talking.

"Great night last night," Molly grinned. "Thanks again for letting me tag along. This is... amazing."

"You've been great," Dean hated to admit it, but Sam had really found himself an amazing girl. "I can see why Sam likes you so much."

"I'd have been better company Molly, I apologize," Rory smiled sheepishly. "Just haven't been feeling too great."

"Don't be silly," she shook her head with polite laughter. "You still went out of your way to speak to-"

"Ah..." he winced suddenly, reaching for his head as the pain began to intensify.

"Rory?" Amy placed her hand on his shoulder.

Sam too looked to be in obvious discomfort, as he ran his hand desperately through his hair and clenched his eyes shut in agony. Both Dean and Molly turned their heads in concern, but all three of the friends knew what was coming, and didn't want to waste their worry, knowing they'd be okay.

...

_"Right sector has detached itself on collision with the surface, sir," one of the flight crew announced. "It's not visible."_

_"The rescue team are on their way to this part of the ship," another spoke. "The missing sector will take longer to get to. They cannot identify it's specific whereabouts on the planet, but it may be past the bigger craters, which will be too difficult to send a rescue car to as it's off the track. There were passengers on board at the time of the collision, and possibly a few staff."_

_The passengers, albeit mostly safe, with the injured being treated in the medical bay, were panicked to the point where some were attempting to get out and trek their way to the leisure palace. Although it would take no longer than a few hours for the high speed rescue car to get there, it would take several days to get there on foot._

_..._

"There's going to be a crash-" Rory gasped out, although by the rattling of the spacecraft, his attempts seemed to be pointless. "We've got to get to the-"


	52. Power

The right section detaches on impact, hooking on to part of the ground, whilst the rest of the spacecraft hovered for a bit, finally collapsing much closer to the leisure palace. The group were shoved against the wall by forces they couldn't fight off, then back to the other side as the craft finally settled. Sam seemed to have fallen awkwardly, injuring his wrist-and probably the rest of his arm too- in the process. He carefully held his injured arm with his good hand, taking a look around to examine the others. Dean was fine, although his motion sickness was obviously getting the better of him. Amy and Molly were shaken up, but their injuries were nothing more than superficial little scratches and The Doctor was nothing more than a little frightened. Rory, although a little hazy from his recent vision, also managed to get away uninjured.

Once they'd made sure those close to them were okay, they set about checking the health of the other passengers. The male from the young couple seemed to have suffered a concussion, whilst the woman had went over on her ankle when the craft was jostling around. The young teenager seemed to get away with little or no injuries, whilst the other man had only suffered a few superficial cuts. They also found two uninjured members of staff in the food storage, one being an older woman and the other being her teenage daughter who was working as an intern.

"They will send out a rescue team soon," The Doctor peered out of the window to see where they had landed. "But they'll be coming on foot as we're off the track for a rescue car to come as some of the planets terrain would be unsuitable, so it will take a week at the very least. In the mean time, we need to stay calm, and look after the injured. And if they don't come, I have a ship located on the other section of the spacecraft, which can be used to get us back to the leisure palace safely, as the rest of the craft will be closer to walk to."

"So we're stuck here for a while?" the teenage boy looked up, his face numerous shades paler than before. "B-but... the other part of the ship... they're okay aren't they?"

"I cannot be sure." The Doctor whispered mournfully. "I'm sorry."

"They'll be okay...-What's your name?" Amy smiled calmly.

"Oliver."

"They're going to be okay, Oliver. We're all okay, aren't we?"

"That's a matter of opinion, really," the boy shrugged. "I mean, your friend with the leather jacket has just run off to go and vomit, and there's blood pouring from that guy's head."

Despite the horrible circumstances, their stay wouldn't be that hard to contend with. Being right above the food storage, they had plenty to keep them going even if they were there for longer than expected. They also had use of bathrooms towards the end of the section, which was proving to be quite handy in the event of Dean's motion sickness. The emergency storage above them also contained several basic medicines, such as painkillers and pills for nausea and bandages too, and that, along with Rory's extensive collection of medical equipment that he'd picked up on his travels on the TARDIS would be helpful in treating the injuries obtained in the crash.

Rory's medical knowledge also proved to be well valued. Despite the fact that he himself felt pretty rough, he wasted no time in helping out. He wrapped Sam's bad arm in a sling as best as he could with some of the emergency supplies, although there was very little he could do as his wrist was most definitely broken. After strapping up the woman- who he'd discovered was called Carol- he set about treating the nasty cut on her male friend's head.

"Now break the news to me," the man grinned with optimism as he started his little joke. "Am I going to die?"

"What's your name again?" Rory asked as he examined the wound.

"Steve."

Once Rory was done, he slumped down next to Amy, sighing as the lethargic tiredness finally hit him.

"Is your head any better?" she smiled, taking hold of his hand.

"Nope," he admitted, resting his aching head on her shoulder.

"Do you think it was because of the vision, or?"

"Don't feel good in general, so maybe the vision just made it a bit worse. I'm just feeling a little under the weather- and no wonder! Things have been mental, recently. I've not really given my mind a rest for ages."

"Just... rest okay? Unless it's desperate, you don't have to worry about tending to injuries, okay? Molly knows quite a bit too, and Sam and Dean are good with emergency first aid, and The Doctor's also perfectly capable."

...

Within a few hours, the group was hit by a sudden surge of boredom. To this point, most of them had kept themselves to themselves, not really trying to break away from their comfort zones, and not wanting to intrude on anyone else's. Rory curled up on the seats, trying to catch up on some well-needed sleep. Dean's stomach had recovered from his bout of motion sickness, and once he felt sufficiently better, he channelled his built up energy in fussing over Sam's injury, trying to figure out how bad a state his arm was in. For those that didn't have anybody familiar to talk to- which meant Oliver the young teenager, and the wealthy older man who they'd found to be called Brian. Otherwise, the group from the TARDIS were comfortable enough, as were Steve and Carol, and the pair from the food storage, Julia and her daughter Beth.

Finally, once the boredom kicked in, they began to mix with one another, getting to know the complete strangers they'd have to spend literally every waking hour with for a few days, at the very least.

"So why are you here instead of being with your parents?" The Doctor made the first attempt at conversation.

"My mum was off flirting with that Captain Jack guy, and my dad was trying to secure some business deal so..." Oliver shrugged, smirking. "Why are _you_ here instead of being with _your_ parents?"

"I like this kid," Amy grinned. "I like this kid a lot."

"But why here? Young teenager like you? Wouldn't you want to go and play low gravity tennis or something?" Dean joined in. "Go and be like... floating Federer or something."

"Who's Federer? Anyway, I don't know. I like books I guess."

"We'll be safe, yes?" Brian's voice quavered slightly. "My family is on the other side of the ship. I came here to take a call- I'm a very busy man- how else do you think I can afford to travel on a Starship Hotel? I practically own a few of them, actually."

"That's the other reason why I'm here instead of on the other bit of the ship- everyone here is rich and snobby."

"Including your parents?" Amy laughed.

"Especially my parents!" Oliver nodded, a smile spreading across his face.

"Hey, we're far from snobby!" Beth protested, pointing her finger towards herself and her mother.

"But you're staff. You're meant to be alright."

"Hey Doctor?" The Doctor stopped looking through the extensive library of books and came over as Amy called him. "The power is still working, right?"

"Each section seems to have it's own electrical system, so yes we still have electricity."

"Then why don't we-"

"Do you want to be stuck here in the darkness?" The Doctor's voice was suddenly more stern than before. "The power supply seems to be limited. If we use up the power on unnecessary things like fun we won't be able to see, and we don't want that do we? From now on, the only electricity we use is to keep the food storage refrigerated and for the lights. If anyone- and I mean anyone- turns on any of the televisions or stereos-"

"Who made you boss?" Brian raised his shoulders aggressively, pulling his suit sleeves up as he did so. "What are we meant to do then? Sit around and actually _talk _to each other? Your sleeping friend over there has the right idea- shut out all the noise erupting from the mouths of idiots."

"Leave him alone, Brian- it's Brian isn't it?" Julia waved her hand, dismissing the angry man. "He's talking perfect sense. What if we're stuck here for longer? If we use up all the power, or eat up all the food now, we'll end up with nothing when we need it most!"

"Oh please, don't start talking like you know about this kind of thing. If you're opinion was of any value, you'd be a passenger on this ship, not just some silly little lady working as a chef-"

"Excuse me?" Amy shook her head in disgust. "Who do you think you are talking to people like that? Is it because Julia is a woman? Is that why she can't be smart? I'm sure everyone agrees that what The Doctor has said makes sense, and what Julia has just told us- about not wasting what resources we have- could be what ends up saving our lives, so why don't you stop being such an arrogant misogynist-"

"If you're so intelligent why haven't you suggested anything, you son of a bitch?" Dean grunted, frowning at the man.

"Oh so-"

"ENOUGH!" The Doctor yelled suddenly, silencing the ruckus that had erupted, with everyone trying to talk over one another, shouting to be heard. "Nobody speaks. Nobody says a word. We sit here in silence, and wait to be rescued, and if we're not within the week, three or four of us will trek down to the other part of the spacecraft and we'll go back to the leisure palace in my ship."

He wandered back over to his space by the books, and as he'd told them, everyone kept quiet. Amy watched him with concern, slightly unnerved by her friend's unusual enforcement of discipline. She wandered over, gently placing her hand on his shoulder, only to have it shoved off.

"Leave me be," The Doctor sighed.

"What's wrong, Doctor?" she spoke gently. "And I won't leave you alone until you answer me."

"I said leave me be," he raised his voice slightly.

"Doctor..."

"We shouldn't have come here, Amy. I should've... It was too risky."

"Explain."

"I don't seem to have much luck on Leisure Planets. Remember I told you... about when-"

"Oh. I remember. The-... Being that repeated what you said."

"And that is exactly why I don't want any of us arguing. The minute a conflict arises, the opportunity for us to descend into behaving like wild animals arises too, and the minute we behave like animals is the minute where a life could be pointlessly spared and where I lose the little faith I have in you humans."

"You said that like you're not human," Oliver glared at him.

"You're not human, are you?" Beth shook her head. "What are you then?"


	53. Conversations

"Does it matter what I am?" The Doctor flung his arms in the air.

"Yes actually," Carol looked towards him. "Yes it does."

"Five people there- five intelligent _human beings- _and they all trust me," he pointed towards the group. "Isn't that enough? It does not matter what I am- it does not matter whether I am human or not-"

"Four," Oliver smirked again. "The unconscious one doesn't count."

The silence diffused through the room. Not one of them dared open their mouths as they awaited The Doctor's response. The same thought ran through all of their minds, even those who were quite fond of the strange man, like Julia and Beth; what if he's dangerous? And no wonder; the man was one of the most dangerous beings in the universe.

"I'm a Time Lord," he finally spoke, with little hesitation. "From the planet of Gallifrey. We... my friends here are from the past, about two centuries ago."

"Look can we just forget about it?" Dean took charge of the situation. "If you've got a problem with him being a different species then pretend he's human for the rest of the week. Anyway, we should eat."

...

Rory began to stir after a few hours, and he was bemused to say the least over the unpleasant atmosphere that followed the arguments. The group was like a closed circle, with just two on the outside; Brian, due to his hostility towards the others, and strangely Rory, due to the fact that he hadn't been awake to fully understand the situation. Of course, socially, Rory was fully involved with the group of those that he knew, but he'd not proved himself well towards the complete strangers, and still, he had to earn their trust.

"How you feeling now, sleepy head?" Amy laughed, giving him her hand to help stand up.

"Better," he smiled tiredly. "Much better."

"We're just about to eat."

"Is everything okay? Everyone seems a bit-"

"Hungry. We're all just hungry."

Aside from the fuss, The Doctor had completely dissociated himself from the huddle that surrounded around the food being prepared. He kept to his little corner, a book held in his hands, more as a prop to get the others to leave him alone than a form of entertainment. He knew he was getting worse- not to the point where it was becoming a problem, but the resilience he had above the humans seemed to have worn off. He couldn't hold off sleep like before, and kept finding himself joining the others when they decided to settle down. Whilst he was still more resilient than humans, most of the un-human protection against those kinds of circumstances had left him, leaving him just a little bit weaker as the days progressed.

He didn't want to die. It was the first time he'd admitted it to himself, but it was true. He didn't want to leave behind a universe where the good outweighed the bad to such a great degree. He didn't want his hearts to stop beating. He wanted to take Dean up on the offer of travelling with him. Yet in his mind, it would be a selfish move changing his mind now, and there was almost no chance in any of the cures working.

"Doc?" Dean wandered over, his mouth filled with food. "Y'okay?"

"M'fine," he smiled falsely, before focusing on the book in his hands.

"You're thinking about it aren't you? Death?"

"Yes. Yes I am," he took a shaky breath. "I don't want to-"

"Then don't. Stop lying to yourself, and-"

"But the circumstances-"

"How do you know something is going to happen to us, Doctor? Why are you so sure that if you don't die, one of us will."

"For every reaction, there is an-"

"Oh don't use science to convince me. If one of us dies, Cas brings us back, okay?"

"It's too late for the cure. In a few months, I won't be here. It's still a while away... Just closer than before."

...

"You know I'm sorry, don't you?" Rory mumbled to Amy as he wandered over. "About Sherlock."

"Keep your voice down, The Doctor doesn't know," Amy smiled.

"Amy, he's in his own little world, it's not as if he can hear us."

"You don't have to be sorry, you know. You're mind was messed up-"

"That was no excuse for being a total idiot about a close friend dying like that-"

"Rory, it wasn't you-"

"But it was me, Amy! It was me that pretty much convinced him to go on that rooftop and jump."

"For good reason, Rory. He's alive. That's all that matters."

"Those two weeks. They must have been horrible. And some of it was my fault."

"John was a mess, and we were all just... angry-"

"See? That was my doing! I was responsible for that...-"

"You still don't look right. You're just a little wired, okay? Just calm down. You made some mistakes but we've forgiven you. Now I think it's time to forgive yourself."

"Mind if I join you two?" Molly smiled, receiving an enthusiastic nod from them both.

"So, how are you finding your first trip to space?" Amy turned towards her to speak. "It's crazy, isn't it?"

"It's... unexplainably strange. I don't think I'll ever get used to it."

"You might get a chance to try. We're really enjoying having you on board, and if you want to stay, we'd be more than happy."

"Thank you," Molly looked slightly taken aback. "But my job-"

"It's your decision what to do. If you don't think it's for you, then just tell us, and if it's losing your job you're worried about... Well Rory didn't lose his job and he's been on the TARDIS for months."

"It's true," Rory nodded.

"I want to, if I'm welcome?"

"Of course you're welcome!" Rory grinned. "You've been a pleasure. Much more fun than John and Sherlock have been."

...

"So..." Dean went to sit beside Sam. "When we get back to normal... When we're finished with whatever we're doing with this Gallifreyan thing... What's happening, Sammy?"

"I've told you before. I'm staying in London," Sam stubbornness hadn't wavered.

"I'm... I guess I'm okay with that," Dean nodded, although his heart dropped a little. "Molly's amazing, Sam. If you're abandoning your big brother for anyone, I'm happy that it's her."

"I... Thanks, Dean. But what are you going to do? I mean... back to America, is it?"

"Maybe. If by some miracle, The Doctor lives, Rory and Amy will probably go back to being companions only once in a while. I think I'm going to travel on the TARDIS for a bit. See more of the universe."


	54. Grief

"Two days," Dean grunted with boredom. "Two days we've been stuck here. Clearly, they need a better rescue system."

"Starship Hotels hardly ever fail," Brian shook his head, dismissing the worry that seemed to fill the room. "The engines are-"

"Yeah well the engines failed, you son of a bitch. If Starship Hotel's engines worked, we'd still be on the ship, instead of here with limited supplies and power."

"I'm just saying, there wouldn't normally be a reason for more sufficient rescue systems to be in place, as they'd be pretty pointless."

"I only brought it up because if we're still here in a few days, we'll have to trek our way over to The Doctor's ship. How hospitable is the air on this planet, Doc?"

"The expedition would be unpleasant," The Doctor replied. "Food would be in low supply, as it would be difficult to preserve properly. The air is breathable, though a slightly different mix than the air back on Earth, so will take some adjusting to."

"Would you say about four of us should go? Just in case the rescue team arrive?" Amy shrugged. "I'm happy going."

"I'm out," Rory sunk back into the seat, laughing gently. "I swear there's something in this air-"

"Probably is. That's why you've probably been so tired. The air is quite different, and not everyone is unaffected by it," The Doctor explained. "I do not wish to partake in the journey either. As far as my affliction goes, physical exertion as extreme as tackling the treacherous terrain of Abydos could greatly worsen my condition much earlier-"

"None of us can fly the TARDIS, Doctor!" Dean protested. "I don't mind going."

"Count me out," Brian's voice could be heard. "This suit was expensive."

"I think this," Sam paused to his injured arm, "Rules me out, although I'd have volunteered had I not suffered this injury."

"Us too," Steve and Carol pointed to their own injuries.

"Molly? Julia? Beth? Oliver?" Dean turned towards them.

"I don't mind going along," Oliver nodded with approval.

"I... No," Julia nodded. "I hope you don't mind."

"Of course not."

"If Beth wants to go along, then I don't mind, although I am not opposed to taking part," Molly smiled.

"You go ahead," Beth grinned in response. "I'm not fussed."

"So... Amy, Molly, Dean and Oliver?" Sam looked around the room, receiving nods of approval. "Sounds good."

"What about flying the TARDIS?" Dean's anxiety hadn't settled. "None of us can fly the TARDIS..."

"We're going to just have to try- and that's not to say that The Doctor can't give us some guidance from now until then. Had Sherl-" Amy paused, realising the hesitant looks that spread across her friends' faces. "Sorry. I shouldn't have-"

For what felt like the millionth time in those past few weeks, the room was filled with silence. The strangers were confused, unaware of the happenings of the others. Whilst all but The Doctor and Molly knew of Sherlock's better fate, they still missed the man greatly, and by just the mention of his name, they were greatly saddened. Dean wandered off to the other side of the room, almost vanishing out of sight as he tried to regain himself. Amy proceeded to sit down again, shrinking away from the glares that the others were so desperately trying not to direct.

...

"This wasn't what we agreed, Castiel," Sherlock stared at angel, looking slightly distraught. "You said that you would take me back- not hole me up in some world of fantasy!"

"You are dead," Castiel began to speak.

"I think I realised that when I jumped off the building."

"This is where you belong now."

"You're trying to tell me that you're not going to bring me back?" Sherlock glared at him, his eyes widening with fear. "Speak without riddles or hesitation, Castiel. Do not equivocate! Tell me the whole truth!"

"I will resurrect you when it is the right moment. Your friends are still mourning. Going back now would be greatly detrimental-"

"I don't care, Castiel! I demand you to take me back right at this moment! I will not return to them, I promise. I wasn't planning to. I will go into hiding, like what I planned to do."

"You are messing with fate here, Sherlock. You died, therefore, theoretically you should remain dead. I have no obligation to take you back. I might never. Messing with the current happenings of Earth could have great consequences. I am an angel of Earth, not of the universe. If I take you back, Moriarty may have to return too, and... we do not want that, do we?"

The scene around the two changed suddenly, appearing now as a graveyard. Sherlock's eyes gazed upon his name, written in gold on the black gravestone. He turned his head to see John, uniformly marching towards him with his head facing the ground.

"He cannot see or hear us. We are still in heaven," Castiel stated, before vanishing.

Sherlock wandered behind the trees to watch from afar, as he watched John break down for just a second. His heart sank, and even more than before he wanted the stupid angel to just take him back. John proceeded to regain himself, walking away calmly towards Mrs Hudson.

"John..." he whispered gently, stepping back towards his grave and kneeling in front of it. "I don't want them to grieve me... I want them to move on. I-... JOHN!"

And for a minute, Sherlock breaks down too, cursing and screaming and letting his angry tears wet his eyes. The absence of the others was unsettling, as he wondered just how easily they'd left John behind. He followed John, both out of curiosity and his pain. He continues screaming, knowing fine well that other man is nothing more than a projection of the truth, and that he won't be able to hear him. He cursed at Castiel, his lips quivering with the overwhelming terror and fury.


	55. Moon

**Ah! Sam/Molly, Rory/Amy...This chapter has a lot of fluffy little romantic stuff, so enjoy:D!**

* * *

Five days had passed, and still no rescue ship had arrived. The boredom was getting to all of them, causing them to bicker and quarrel over every little thing. Apart from maybe Oliver and Beth, the two teenagers, and Beth's mother Julia, the strangers had grown to deeply mistrust The Doctor. Brian, in particular, would constantly try and pick fights with them. He didn't like this Brian. He didn't like this Brian one bit.

"Can't we replace him with _your_ Brian instead?" he angrily whispered in Rory's ear.

"If only, Doctor," Rory slung his head back, yawning with boredom. "If only."

"You should plan to go soon," The Doctor raised his voice. "It's been five days. Tomorrow?"

"We haven't even ventured outside yet," Molly spoke with perfect reason. "How do we know we'll be able to cope with the different atmosphere."

"Theoretically, we should be okay," Oliver looked up, receiving confused glances as he began to spout unknown knowledge. "I read up on Abydos before I came here, and we've learnt about it in school. The atmosphere is barely different from earth. There's slightly more oxygen, I think... Or nitrogen? It's only fractionally, so unless you're really sensitive to changes like that it should be fine. And most of the time any reactions to it are just in the mind- like... your brain consciously notices the change, and whilst physically nothing is wrong with you, you start convincing yourself that it feels like there is..."

"Gee, my minds making up crap now," Rory laughed.

They decided to test the waters first before they even attempted to go on their exhibition, and agreed that they'd all step out onto the planets surface. This was partly to quench the boredom that plagued each and every one of them, but there was some practicality in the move. Steve and Carol got out first, Steve helping Carol walk on her sprained ankle. Rory and Amy followed, hand in hand, although when they reached the surface they couldn't help but sense that something wasn't right. Sam, Dean and Molly were next, followed by Oliver, Beth, Julia and Brian. The Doctor climbed out last.

He was pushed onto the floor with shock. His eyes fixated on the murky coloured rocky surface of the terrain below him. He shuffled back slightly, running his hand against the chalky rubble, his fingers shaking terribly. He attempted to stand up, but the sight of the planet above him shoved him right back off his feet again. His hearts pounded in his chest as he looked towards the others filled with dread.

"What is it, Doctor?" Amy rushed over, helping the Time Lord back onto his feet.

"I am so very sorry," he shook his head, looking away from his friend.

"Doctor, tell us what is wrong!"

"This isn't Abydos."

"Then what is it? Where are we?" Rory's eyes widened with fear.

"Venallas, right?" Oliver looked towards The Doctor. "The second moon of Abydos. But what about the other part of the ship-"

"Will be on Venallas too. The ship couldn't have split with the two parts landing separately like that, considering the gravitational field strength... It's just basic physics," Beth corrected. "Sorry, I'm a bit of a science nerd."

"The air is still breathable, isn't it?" Julia looked concerned.

"More similar to Earth's actually. Venallas has it's own atmosphere," Oliver grinned.

"It doesn't make sense... Rory's fatigue was caused by the difference in air but the air here-..." The Doctor's brow furrowed.

"The air on the ship is probably Abydos' air. I mean... he looks better now, doesn't he?"

"And no wonder I was tired considering the shit that's been happening," Rory flung his hands in the air.

"And sometimes different pressures can cause things like that too," Carol added.

"You will have to go early in the morning," The Doctor told them. "Bring the TARDIS back to here, then from then on, I'll be able to use it to tow the other half of the ship."

"The TARDIS couldn't pull something that big, surely?" Sam queried.

"Actually, it can. Don't doubt my ship, Sammy."

"The people on the other half..." Oliver was hit with a sudden realisation. "They're still there."

"We were at loggerheads and there was just a few of us," Beth stared at her feet.

"Imagine what it would be like with thousands."

They wandered back inside, their moods dampened by their findings. Although it had been the source for several arguments, they'd all agreed that considering that four of them would be leaving the next day, the power could be used for more recreational purposes than lighting, cooking and heating. Music was playing gently in the background as they sat around, talking happily for once.

"Hey," Amy tapped Rory's shoulder enthusiastically as a new song began. "That's my song. That's my favourite song!"

"This is the twenty third century, right?" Dean grinned, also recognizing the song. "Vintage doesn't even cover it."

Within seconds, they were all on their feet, dancing to the gentle guitar strumming in the background. Amy moved in towards Rory, gently brushing her lips against his. He smiled as they spread out their arms, their fingers still interlocked as they swayed. Sam and Molly could be found on the other side of the room, their hands joined together as they stepped side to side, being careful not to further injure his arm. Molly edged closer towards his chest, leaning her head into his shoulder. He turned towards her, placing a kiss onto her lips. Oliver and Beth had joined together, yet their choice of moves was less romantic than the others, being mockingly overdramatic as they pretended to sing the song. Steve and Carol were also dancing, yet they had to do so sitting down, due to Carol's injured ankle. Even Julia and Brian were dancing, although they'd settled for dancing apart rather than together.

"Care to dance, Doctor?" Dean jokingly held his hand out towards the Time Lord, a grin spread across his face. "I'm feeling a little left out here."

The music changed to a more upbeat tune, and the couples pulled apart, moving on to dance with some of their other friends. Sam and Amy took charge of the dance floor, with Amy swaying her head and Sam pumping his uninjured fist. Dean and Molly had also somehow ended up standing next to each other.

"It's been a pleasure finally meeting you," Dean smiled. "Sam's a very lucky man."

"I know you're not particularly up for Sam staying in London," Molly shrugged, looking towards the tall Winchester as he made a fool of himself trying to dance. "But-"

"I'm not happy with it, but you think I'm going to stop him? He's happy for once, and I don't if that's because he's got you, or because he's away from me or because he's away from hunting, but he's _happy_ and that's all that really matters."

"He talks very highly of you, Dean. You could always come to London too. I mean, Sam's sorted all of his legal stuff like visas and things and there's no reason why we can't do the same for you. And you could get a flat or something, or go stay with John for a bit?"

"If The Doctor lives, I'm going to travel with him for a while, I think. And if he doesn't, I'll probably take you up on that offer, I guess."

By the time the next song was over, the decided it was time to turn off the music, just so they didn't waste too much of the power they had left. However, they were still in high spirits, the dancing having greatly brightened their moods. Rory in particular seemed like a completely different person, seeming more like the Rory that they knew before everything had happened rather than the man with all the secrets.

"Everything just seems... amazing," Amy grinned, wrapping her arm around him and cuddling in. "Like... back to normal again."

"I mean... what's the point in getting upset over things we can't control?" Rory placed his head against hers, going to kiss her forehead.

"I just... There's just one thing..."

"What? What is it?"

"I just wish The Doctor wasn't going to die, you know? Even he's changed his mind, yet he says it'll be too late now."

"I don't know. Maybe some miracle is heading our way."

"Maybe."


	56. Trek

"How long do you think it will take?" Amy asked The Doctor as they were making sure the four had everything.

"Not as long as it would've taken had we been on Abydos instead of Venallas," The Doctor smiled, giving Amy one last hug before they were heading to leave. "A day or two?"

"Depends how we pace ourselves," Oliver noted through a mouthful of his breakfast. "We should leave now, and we'll probably be able to get there by tonight, or early tomorrow morning."

They left just minutes later, all of their stuff- which included their supply of food and water, some medical supplies and other necessities- in backpacks they'd found up in the emergency storage. In high spirits, they managed to trek for a few hours straight, before stopping to eat. Something about the change of scenery was exciting for them after being holed up in the section of the spacecraft for so long, and it helped that Venallas was such a fantastical place. As they sat to tuck in to their measly ration of bread and butter, Amy couldn't help but run her fingers against the glittery silver dust that rested upon the surface. Despite having already travelled and seen so much of the universe, the unearthliness of other worlds never ceased to amaze her. She looked towards Molly and could only dream of how he was feeling seeing something as great as this for the first time.

"It's just-" Molly paused, shaking her head in bewilderment. "Amazing. Like...I can't even begin to explain how amazing this is."

"I take it that means you are definitely joining us on our travels then, Mol?" Amy grinned. "I hope so."

"Yes," she smiled back. "I think I will- provided The Doctor doesn't just get us stuck places all the time."

"It happens more than you'd think, actually," Dean noted. "But don't let that put you off."

"What are we going to do about flying that ship of his?" Oliver queried. "I mean, from what I've heard none of us can fly it..."

"Oh, you guys just need to calm down," Amy waved away the concern. "I've seen The Doctor fly it a million times. I know a little at least, and... the TARDIS will take us where she needs to go, she just needs a little bit of...encouragement."

"We should probably wait until it gets a little lighter before we go ahead," Dean suggested as he looked towards the sky. "It's a bit too dark to see where we're going."

"So, what are your family like, Oliver?" Amy realised the mood was getting a little low as they began to quieten down.

"Mental," he laughed. "Dad's a busy man. He's got the money he's got from working hard. Mum's very sociable- wait scratch what I said before; we're in the money because of mum's connections."

"Why didn't you stay with them on the other bit of the ship?" Dean questioned.

"Dad was on some business meeting over breakfast, and mum was well... why don't you ask that Jack Harkness fellow once we get there?"

"They'll be okay, you know," Amy smiled, trying to calm the boy's obvious nerves over his family's welfare. "Have faith in the human race."

"Are you being serious?" he giggled.

...

"Doc?" Sam wandered over as everyone else lay asleep.

"What are you doing awake?" the Time Lord looked up from his book.

"Can't sleep."

"What's bothering you?"

"They're going to be able to fly the TARDIS, aren't they?"

"If they can't, I'm sure Captain Jack would be capable."

"I'm being serious."

"Have faith in them. Maybe they'll surprise you."

"I mean, Amy and Molly I can see managing to fly the damn thing... But Dean? It'd be a miracle for him to be able to travel on it without feeling nauseous, and that's with someone who knows how to fly it in charge."

...

The four of them treaded onwards, not one of them lagging behind at all. Amy and Molly remained determined to get there even faster than predicted, a slight spring in both of their steps. Dean and Oliver's dry sense of humour also accounted for the happier atmosphere that surrounded them, with one of them cracking some form of sarcastic joke every few minutes.

"Isn't Brian a complete and utter idiot?" Oliver commented at a particularly difficult stretch of land. "That's what having money brings I guess."

"Ach, you learn to shut him out after the first day or so," Amy shrugged.

"Oh, I have a space yacht and I own a whole corridor of suites on like... four Starship Hotels, and I eat Sontaran for my breakfast!" he mocked.

"Sontarans are the potato ones, right? Rory was telling me about them yesterday," Molly laughed.

"Bet they don't taste like potato."

"We should ask Brian."

...

Instead of following his own trail of sentimental memories, Sherlock continued to follow the projected reality that Castiel had granted with. This was partly because he preferred watching how John was getting on to the nostalgic, bittersweet falsities he'd been shown prior, and partly because he had no idea how to get back. Maybe Castiel had granted him with a heaven he'd actually appreciated, trying to soften him up for whatever bad news he'd bring the next time he appeared with his dirty trench coat swirling.

It hurt to know that John was grieving as he listened in to the conversations he had with Lestrade and Mrs Hudson, and the fact that he'd barely even spoke to Mycroft unsettled Sherlock more than it should have. John seemed more like the John he'd first met; still walking with his cane for his psychosomatic limp, and still having not quite recovered from the things that burdened his mind. He saw John attempt to try and write a new post onto his blog once in a while, but one look at the links to posts about 'The Hounds of Baskerville' and 'The Geek Interpreter' sent him back into the depths of his turmoil yet again. His sister Harry visited at some point, trying out the 'shout until he gets up off his backside and smiles' method, failing miserably, ending in her slamming the door unhappily behind her.


	57. Success

After hours and hours of endless walking, the other half of the ship was finally in sight. Being a sturdy spacecraft, the damage didn't appear to be too bad. The view of the hunk of metal in the distance willed them on even further, and the four of them found themselves practically running towards the entrance. Oliver in particular picked up pace, busting through to head towards the foyer.

"The TARDIS is stored below the foyer, right?" Amy turned towards Dean and Molly.

"People! People from the other section of the ship!" someone called, waving their hand towards the four of them. "Everyone's gathered through here for breakfast- it's a lot easier to organize people if everyone's in the same place, so for meals and other things, there's been strict rules that everyone- except those in the medical bay should be here."

"We're collecting my friend's ship from the storage," Amy announced confidently. "He's much more experienced flying it, and he'll be able to use it to tow this section of the ship back onto Abydos."

"We're not on Abydos?"

"Venallas, actually," Oliver corrected. "One of it's moons."

Once everyone had been alerted about the rescue, Amy set about the difficult task of planning to fly the TARDIS. She'd missed the shiny interior of the control room, and the unexplainable tingles of joy that surged through her body at the sight of the blue box were in no way absent, even though she'd been travelling on it for such a long time. Molly, Dean and Oliver followed behind her.

"Woah," Oliver's eyes darted around as he stepped through the door. "The Doc has some nice wheels!"

Amy took another look at the control panel, desperately trying to remember how The Doctor managed to fly the thing. She stared at the buttons and leavers, piecing together the method in her head. She knew that the best thing to do was take it step by step, hoping her memory was serving her right. The TARDIS seemed to cooperate well, and slowly but surely, she'd managed to fly it, but whether they'd arrived back at the other part of the ship was a completely different matter.

...

"Sherlock," Castiel spoke gently, watching as Sherlock glared towards 221B. "You must disassociate your mind from this projection to escape it."

"I do not wish to escape this, Castiel," Sherlock stated calmly, taking a few steps closer towards the flat. "Unless you wish to take me back, I am staying here."

"I can take you back. The premonitions are possibly not to be taken literally, for the vision involving you seeing your own grave took place in heaven."

"I understand completely."

"But not yet, Sherlock."

"When?" Sherlock demanded, his voice heightening. "Tell me!"

"Soon."

...

Amy practically collapsed out of the TARDIS with happiness at the sight of the ship. The others dashed out at the sound of the box landing, and Amy was almost bombarded with people as they ran towards her.

"I knew you could do it," The Doctor wrapped his arms around her, and spun her around happily. "I bet you flew it better than I ever could! You amazing thing, you! I tell myself not to doubt the power of the human race for moments like this, Pond! Now let's go save some people!"

"I'm proud," Rory grinned, pulling Amy into an enthusiastic hug. "So proud!"

"She managed to fly it without making me feel nauseous," Dean patted The Doctor playfully on the shoulder. "Better than can be said about your flying, Doc."

In high spirits, they all piled back in to the TARDIS, including the other strangers who gawked in shock at the monstrosity of a machine. Oliver's hands were shaking at the thought of making sure that his family was okay, and Brian wanted nothing more than to see his wife and kids safe. Whilst the group were away, he'd grown to be less hostile, warming towards even The Doctor's alien persona. He'd even apologized to Julie and Beth, who whilst accepting this apology, still treated him with a little less respect than the nicer members of the group. In the corner of the TARDIS, Sam and Molly were celebrating their reunion with a soft gentle kiss, their hands joined closely as they pulled apart to observe the hustle and bustle.

"How was the trip?" he smiled, resting his head gently on her shoulder.

"Not as bad as we thought," Molly grinned in response, stroking the back of his hand. "Thanks for asking me to come along. I really enjoy this."

"And you're joining us more permanently now!"

"I know!"

"It's not all fun and games, I should warn you," Sam's smile faded a little bit. "From what I've heard, things have been a little... unsettled since Sherlock's death. And of course John isn't here, and I doubt he'll be joining us again any time soon."

"Why's that?"

"You've heard about Rory by now. He's still... quite angry about it. I can't blame him- he's upset, and he's grieving and Sherlock was so much more important to him than he was to us-"

"Don't worry about it, Sammy," he grinned a bit at the mention of his nickname. "John will be okay. Things will get better."

"And The Doctor-"

"Just make the most of his time left. We're going to save the world, whether he's with us or not. I mean, Amy could probably fly the TARDIS, and if not, she's told me about The Doctor's friends who could? River was it? And Captain Jack probably."

"And Cas could provide us will time travel too, if not."


End file.
